^M. 


UNDATIONS 


JOHN  GALSWORTHY 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE   FOUNDATIONS 

(AN   EXTRAVAGANT   PLAY) 
BY 

JOHN  GALSWORTHY 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

1920 


COPTRIQHT,  1920,  BT 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


College 
Library 

63013 


CAST  OF  THE  ORIGINAL  PRODUCTION 

Royalty  Theatre,  June,  1917 


Lord  William  Dromondt,  M.P. 

PouLDER  {hia  butler) 

James  {first  footman) 

Henht  (second  footman) 

Thomas  (third  footman) 

Charles  (fourth  footman) 

The  Press  . 

Lemmt  (a  plumber) 

Ladt  Wiluam  Dromondt 

Miss  Stokes 

Old  Mrs.  Lemmt 

Little  Anne 

LiTTLB  AlDA 


Mr.  Dawson  Milward 
Mr.  Sidney  Paxton 
Mr.  Stq)hen  T.  Ewart 
Mr.  Allan  Jeayes 
Mr.  William  Lawrence 
Mr.  Robert  Lawlor 
Mr.  Lawrence  Hanray 
Mr.  Dennis  Eadie 
Miss  Lydia  Bilbrooke 
Miss  Gertrude  Sterroli 
Miss  Esme  Hubbard 
Miss  Babs  Farren 
Miss  Dinka  Starace 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arcliive 

in  2007  witli  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


littp://www.arcliive.org/details/foundationsanextOOgalsiala 


PERSONS  OF  THE  PLAY 

LoBD  William  Dhomondt,  M.P. 

Lady  William  Dbomondt 

Little  Anne 

Miss  Stokes 

Mk.  Potjldeb 

James 

Henry 

Thomas 

Charles 

The  Press 

Lemmy 

Old  Mrs.  Lemmy 

Little  Aida 

The  Duke  of  Exeter 

Some  Anti-Sweaters;    Some  Sweated  Workers;    and  a 
Crowd 


SCENES 

SCENE  I.    The  cellar  al  Lord  William  Dbomondt's  in  Park 
Lane. 

SCENE  II.     The  room  of  old  Mrs.  Lem&iy  in  Bethnal  Green. 

SCENE  III.    Ante-room  of  the  hall  at  Lord  William  Dro 
mondt'b. 

The  Action  passes  contintumsly  between  8  and  10.30  of  a 
summer  evening,  some  years  after  the  Great  War. 


ACT  I 

Lord  William  Dromondy's  mansion  in  Park  Lane. 
Eight  o'clock  of  the  evening.  Little  Anne 
Dromondy  and  the  large  footman,  James,  gaunt 
and  grim,  discovered  in  the  loine  cellar,  by  light 
of  gas.    James,  in  plush  breeches,  is  selecting  wine, 

L.  Anne.  James,  are  you  really  James? 

James.  No,  my  proper  name's  John. 

L.  Anne.  Oh!  [A  pause]  And  is  Charles's  an  im- 
proper name  too  ? 

James.  His  proper  name's  Mark. 

L.  Anne.  Then  is  Thomas  Matthew? 

James.  Miss  Anne,  stand  clear  o'  that  bin.  You'll 
put  your  foot  through  one  o'  those  'ock  bottles. 

L.  Anne.  No,  but  James — Henry  might  be  Luke, 
really  ? 

James.  Now  shut  it,  Miss  Anne ! 

L.  Anne.  Who  gave  you  those  names?  Not  your 
godfathers  and  godmothers? 

James.  Poulder.  Butlers  think  they're  the  Al- 
mighty. [Gloomily]  But  his  name's  Bartholomew. 

L.  Anne.  Bartholomew  Poulder?    It's  rather  jolly. 

James.  It's  hidjeous. 

L.  Anne.  Which  do  you  like  to  be  called— John  or 
James? 

Copyright,  1920,  by  Charles  Scribner'i  Soni 
1 


2  THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  i 

James.  I  don't  give  a  darn. 

L.  Anne.  What  is  a  darn.'* 

James.  'Tain't  in  the  dictionary. 

L.  Anne.  Do  you  like  my  name?  Anne  Dro- 
mondy  ?    It's  old,  you  know.    But  it's  funny,  isn't  it  ? 

James.  [Indifferently]  It'll  pass. 

L.  Anne.  How  many  bottles  have  you  got  to  pick 
out? 

James.  Thirty-four. 

L.  Anne.  Are  they  all  for  the  dinner,  or  for  the 
people  who  come  in  to  the  Anti-Sweating  Meeting 
afterwards  ? 

James.  All  for  the  dinner.  They  give  the  Sweated 
— tea. 

L.  Anne.  All  for  the  dinner?  They'll  drink  too 
much,  won't  they  ? 

James.  We've  got  to  be  on  the  safe  side. 

L.  Anne.  Will  it  be  safer  if  they  drink  too  much? 

James  patisea  in  the  act  of  dusting  a  bottle  to 

look  at  her,  as  if  suspecting  irony. 

[Sniffing]  Isn't  the  smell  delicious  here — like  the  taste 

of  cherries  when  they've  gone  bad — [She  sniffs  again] 

and  mushrooms;  and  boot  blacking 

James.  That's  the  escape  of  gas. 

L.  Anne.  Has  the  plumber's  man  been? 

James.  Yes. 

L.  Anne.  Which  one? 

James.  Little  blighter  I've  never  seen  before. 

L.  Anne.  What  is  a  little  blighter?    Can  /see? 

James.  He's  just  gone. 


ACT  I  THE  FOUNDATIONS  3 

L.  Anne.  [Straying]  Oh !  .  .  .  James,  are  these 
really  the  foundations  ? 

James.  You  might  'arf  say  so.  There's  a  lot  under 
a  woppin'  big  house  like  this;  you  can't  hardly  get  to 
the  bottom  of  it. 

L.  Anne.  Everything's  built  on  something,  isn't  it  ? 
And  what's  that  built  on  ? 

James.  Ask  another. 

L.  Anne.  K  you  wanted  to  blow  it  up,  though, 
you'd  have  to  begin  from  here,  wouldn't  you? 

James.  Who'd  want  to  blow  it  up  ? 

L.  Anne.  It  toould  make  a  mess  in  Park  Lane. 

James.  I've  seen  a  lot  bigger  messes  than  this'd 
make,  out  in  the  war. 

L.  AimE.  Oh!  but  that's  years  ago!  Was  it  like 
this  in  the  trenches,  James  ? 

James.  [Grimly]  Ah!  'Cept  that  you  covddn't  lay 
your  'and  on  a  bottle  o'  port  when  you  wanted  one. 

L.  Anne.  Do  you,  when  you  want  it,  here  ? 

James.  [On  guard]  I  only  suggest  it's  possible. 

L.  Anne.  Perhaps  Poulder  does. 

James.  [IcUy]  I  say  nothin'  about  that. 

L.  Anne.  Oh !    Do  say  something ! 

James.  I'm  ashamed  of  you.  Miss  Anne,  pumpin' me! 

L.  Anne.  [Reproachfully]  I'm  not  piunpin' !  I  only 
want  to  make  Poulder  jump  when  I  ask  him. 

James.  [Grinning]  Try  it  on  your  own  responsibility, 
then;  don't  bring  me  in ! 

L.  Anne.  [Switching  off]  James,  do  you  think  there's 
going  to  be  a  bloody  revolution  ? 


4  THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  i 

James.  [Shocked]  I  shouldn't  use  that  word,  at  your 
age. 

L.  Anne.  Why  not?  Daddy  used  it  this  morning 
to  Mother.  [Imitating]  "The  country's  in  an  awful 
state,  darling;  there's  going  to  be  a  bloody  revolution, 
and  we  shall  all  be  blown  sky-high."  Do  you  like 
Daddy? 

James.  [Taken  aback]  Like  Lord  William?  What 
do  you  think?  We  chaps  would  ha'  done  anything 
for  him  out  there  in  the  war. 

L.  Anne.  He  never  says  that — ^he  always  says  he'd 
have  done  anything  for  you ! 

James.  Well — that's  the  same  thing. 

L.  Anne.  It  isn't — it's  the  opposite.  What  is  class 
hatred,  James? 

James.  [Wisely]  Ah !  A  lot  o'  people  thought  when 
the  war  was  over  there'd  be  no  more  o'  that.  [He  snig- 
gers] Used  to  amuse  me  to  read  in  the  papers  about 
the  wonderful  unity  that  was  comin'.  I  could  ha* 
told  'em  different. 

L.  Anne.  Why  should  people  hate?  /  like  every- 
body. 

James.  You  know  such  a  lot  o'  people,  don't  you? 

L.  Anne.  Well,  Daddy  likes  everybody,  and  Mother 
likes  everybody,  except  the  people  who  don't  like 
Daddy.  I  bar  Miss  Stokes,  of  course;  but  then,  who 
wouldn't  ? 

James.  [With  a  touch  of  philosophy]  That's  right — 
we  all  bars  them  that  tries  to  get  something  out  of  us. 

L.  Anne.  Who  do  you  bar,  James  ? 


ACT  I  THE  FOUNDATIONS  5 

James.  Well — [Enjoying  the  luxury  of  thought] — 
Speaking  generally,  I  bar  everybody  that  looks  down 
their  noses  at  me.  Out  there  in  the  trenches,  there'd 
come  a  shell,  and  orf'd  go  some  orficer's  head,  an'  I'd 
think :  That  might  ha'  been  me — we're  all  equal  in  the 
sight  o'  the  stars.  But  when  I  got  home  again  among 
the  torfs,  I  says  to  meself:  Out  there,  ye  know,  you 
filled  a  hole  as  well  as  me;  but  here  you've  put  it  on 
again,  with  mufti. 

L.  Anne.  James,  are  your  breeches  made  of  mufti  ? 

James.  [Contemplating  his  legs  vnth  a  certain  con- 
tempt] Ah !  Footmen  were  to  ha'  been  off;  but  Lord 
William  was  scared  we  wouldn't  get  jobs  in  the  rush. 
We're  on  his  conscience,  and  it's  on  my  conscience 
that  I've  been  on  his  long  enough — so,  now  I've  saved 
a  bit,  I'm  goin'  to  take  meself  orf  it. 

L.  Anne.  Oh !    Are  you  going  ?    Where  ? 

James.  [Assembling  the  last  bottles]  Out  o'  Blighty! 

L.  Anne.  Is  a  little  blighter  a  little  Englishman  ? 

James.  [Embarrassed]  Well — 'e  can  be. 

L.  Anne.  [Muring]  James — we're  quite  safe  down 
here,  aren't  we,  in  a  revolution?  Pnly,  we  wouldn't 
have  fun.  Which  would  you  rather — be  safe,  or  have 
fun? 

James.  [Grimly]  Well,  I  had  my  bit  o' fun  in  the  war. 

L.  Anne.  I  like  fun  that  happens  when  you're  not 
looking. 

James.  Do  you?    You'd  ha'  been  just  suited. 

L.  Anne.  James,  is  there  a  future  life  ?  Miss  Stokes 
says  so. 


6  THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  i 

James.  It's  a  belief,  in  the  middle  classes. 

L.  Anne.  What  are  the  middle  classes  ? 

James.  Anything  from  two  'midred  a  year  to  super- 
tax. 

L.  Anne.  Mother  says  they're  terrible.  Is  Miss 
Stokes  middle  class  ? 

James.  Yes. 

L.  Anne.  Then  I  expect  they  are  terrible.  She's 
awfully  virtuous,  though,  isn't  she  ? 

James.  'Tisn't  so  much  the  bein'  virtuous,  as  the 
lookin'  it,  that's  awful. 

L,  Anne.  Are  all  the  middle  classes  virtuous?  Is 
Poulder  ? 

James.  \T>vhiously\  Well.  .  .  .    Ask  him! 

L.  Anne.  Yes,  I  will.    Look ! 

From,  an  empty  bin  on  the  ground  level  she 
picks  up  a  lighted  taper,  burnt  almost  to 
the  end. 

James.  [Contemplating  it]  Careless ! 

L.  Anne.  Oh !  And  look !  [She  points  to  a  rounded 
metal  object  lying  in  the  bin,  close  to  where  the  taper 
was]  It's  a  bomb ! 

She  is  about  to  pick  it  up  when  James  takes 
her  by  the  waist  and  puts  her  aside. 

James.  [Sternly]  You  stand  back  there!  I  don't 
like  the  look  o'  that ! 

L.  Anne.  [With  intense  interest]  Is  it  really  a  bomb  ? 
What  fun ! 

James.  Go  and  fetch  Poulder  while  I  keep  an  eye 
on  it. 


ACTi  THE  FOUNDATIONS  7 

L.  Anne.  [On  tiptoe  of  excitement]  If  only  I  can 
make  him  jump!  Oh,  James!  we  needn't  put  the 
light  out,  need  we  ? 

Jameb.  No.    Clear  off  and  get  him,  and  don't  you 
come  back. 
L.  Anne.  Oh !  but  I  must !    I  foimd  it ! 
James.  Cut  along. 
L.  Anne.  Shall  we  bring  a  bucket? 
James.  Yes.  [Anne  flies  off. 

[Gazing  at  the  object]  Near  go!  Thought  I'd  seen 
enough  o'  them  to  last  my  time.  That  little  gas 
blighter !  He  looked  a  rimi  'un,  too — one  o'  these  'ere 
Bobhies. 

In  the  presence  of  this  grim  object  the  habits 

of  the  past  are  too  much  for  him.    He  sits  on 

the  ground,  leaning  against  one  of  the  bottle 

baskets,  keeping  his  eyes  on  the  bomb,  his 

large,  lean,  gorgeous  body  spread,  one  elbow 

on  his  plush  knee.     Taking  ovi  an  empty 

pipe,  he  places  it  mechanicaUy,  bowl  down, 

between  his  lips.     There  enter,  behind  him, 

as  from  a  communication  trench,  Poulder, 

in  swalUm-tails,  with  Little  Anne  behind 

him. 

L.   Anne.    [Peering  round  him — ecstatic]   Hurrah! 

Not  gone  off  yet!    It  can't — can  it — ^whUe  James  is 

sitting  on  it? 

Poulder.  [Very  broad  and  stout,  vnth  square  shoul- 
ders, a  large  ruddy  face,  and  a  smaU  mouth]  No  noise, 
Miss.    James ! 


THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  i 

James.  Hallo! 

PouLDEB.  What's  all  this  ? 

James.  Bomb! 

PouLDER.  Miss  Anne,  oflF  you  go,  and  don't  you 


L.  Anne.   Come  back  again !    I  know  I     [She  flies. 

James.  [Extending  his  hand  with  the  pipe  in  it]  See ! 

PouLDER.  [Severely]  You've  been  at  it  again !    Look 

here,  you're  not  in  the  trenches  now.     Get  up  !    What 

are  your  breeches  goin'  to  be  like  ?    You  might  break 

a  bottle  any  moment ! 

James.  [Rising  with  a  jerk  to  a  sort  of  "Attention!"] 
Look  here,  you  starched  antiquity,  you  and  I  and  that 
bomb  are  here  in  the  sight  of  the  stars.  If  you  don't 
look  out  I'll  stamp  on  it  and  blow  us  all  to  glory! 
Drop  your  civilian  swank ! 

PouLDER.  [Seeing  red]  Ho!  Because  you  had  the 
privilege  of  fightin'  for  your  coimtry,  you  still  think 
you  can  put  it  on,  do  you?  Take  up  your  wine! 
*Pon  my  word,  you  fellers  have  got  no  nerve  left ! 

James  makes  a  sudden  swoop,  lifts  the  bomb 
and   poises   it   in    both   hands.    Poulder 
recoils  against  a  bin  and  gazes  at  the  object. 
James.  Put  up  your  hands ! 
Poulder.  I  defy  you  to  make  me  ridiculous. 
James.  [Fiercely]  Up  with  'em ! 

Poulder's  hands  go  up  in  an  uncontrollable 

spasm,  which  he  subdues  almost  instantly, 

pulling  them  down  again. 

James.  Very  good.  iHc  lowers  the  bomh. 

Poulder.  [Surprised]  I  never  lifted  'em. 

James.  You'd    have    made    a    first-class    Boche, 


ACT  I  THE  FOUNDATIONS  9 

Poulder.    Take  the  bomb  yourself;  you're  in  charge 
of  this  section. 

Poulder.  [Pouting]  It's  no  part  of  my  duty  to 
carry  menial  objects;  if  you're  afraid  of  it  I'll  send 
'Enry. 

James.  Afraid!    You  'Op  o'  me  thumb! 

From  the  "communication  trench"  appears 
Little  Anne,  followed  by  a  thin,  sharp, 
sallow-faced  man  of  thirty-five  or  so,  and 
another  Footman,  carrying  a  wine-cooler. 

L.  Anne.  I've  brought  the  bucket,  and  the  Press. 

Press.  [In  front  of  Poulder's  round  eyes  and  mouth] 
Ah,  major  domo,  I  was  just  taking  the  names  of  the 
Anti-Sweating  dinner.  [He  caiclies  sight  of  the  bomb 
in  James's  hand]  By  George!  What  A.l.  irony!  [He 
brings  out  a  note-book  and  writes]  "Highest  class  dining 
to  relieve  distress  of  lowest  class — bombed  by  same ! " 
Tipping !  [He  rubs  his  hands]. 

Poulder.  [Draudng  himself  up]  Sk?  This  is  pres- 
ent !    [He  indicates  Anne  vnih  the  flat  of  his  hand.] 

L.  Anne.  I  found  the  bomb. 

Press.  [Absorbed]  By  Jove!  This  is  a  piece  of 
luck !  [He  writes. 

Poulder.  [Observing  him]  This  won't  do — it  won't 
do  at  all ! 

Press.  [Writing — absorbed]  "Beginning  of  the  Brit- 
ish Revolution!" 

Poulder.  [To  James]  Put  it  m  the  cooler.  'Eniy, 
'old  up  the  cooler.  Gently!  Miss  Anne,  get  be'ind 
the  Press. 

James.  [Grimly — holding  the  bomb  above  the  cooler]  It 


10  THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  i 

won't  be  the  Press  that'll  stop  Miss  Anne  goin'  to 
'Eaven  if  one  o'  this  sort  goes  off.  Look  out!  I'm 
goin'  to  drop  it. 

All  recoil.    Henky  puis  ike  cooler  down  and 
hacks  away. 

L.  Anne.  {Dancing  forward]  Oh!  Let  me  see!  I 
missed  all  the  war,  you  know ! 

James  lowers  the  homh  into  the  cooler. 

PoTJLDER.  [Regaining  courage — to  The  Pbess,  who 
is  scribbling  in  his  note-book]  If  you  mention  this  before 
the  police  lay  their  hands  on  it,  it'll  be  contempt  o' 
Court. 

Press.  [Struck]  I  say,  major  domo,  don't  call  in 
the  police!  That's  the  last  resort.  Let  me  do  the 
Sherlocking  for  you.    Who's  been  down  here  ? 

L.  Anne.  The  plumber's  man  about  the  gas — a 
little  blighter  we'd  never  seen  before. 

James.  Lives  close  by,  in  Royal  Coiu-t  Mews — No.  3. 
I  had  a  word  with  him  before  he  came  down.  Lemmy 
his  name  is. 

Press.  "Lemmy!"  [Noting  the  address]  Right-o! 

L.  Anne.  Oh !    Do  let  me  come  with  you ! 

PouLDER.  [Barring  the  way]  I've  got  to  lay  it  all 
before  Lord  William. 

Press.  Ah!    What's  he  like? 

PouLDER.  [With  dignity]  A  gentleman,  sir. 

Press.  Then  he  won't  want  the  police  in. 

PouLDER.  Nor  the  Press,  if  I  may  go  so  far  as  to 
say  so. 

Press.  One  to  you!    But  I  defy  you  to  keep  this 


ACT  I  THE  FOUNDATIONS  11 

from  the  Press,  major  domo.  This  is  the  most  sig- 
nificant thing  that  has  happened  in  our  time.  Guy 
Fawkes  is  nothing  to  it.  The  foundations  of  Society 
reeling!    By  George,  it's  a  second  Bethlehem! 

[He  toriies. 

PouLDEB.  {To  James]  Take  up  your  wine  and  follow 
me.  'Enry,  bring  the  cooler.  Miss  Anne,  precede  us. 
[To  The  Press]  You  defy  me?  Very  well;  I'm  goin' 
to  lock  you  up  here. 

Press.  [Uneasy]  I  say — this  is  medieval. 

{He  attempts  to  pass. 

PouLDER.  [Barring  the  way]  Not  so!  James,  put 
him  up  in  that  empty  'ock  bin.  We  can't  have  dinner 
disturbed  in  any  way. 

James.  {Putting  his  hands  on  The  Press's  shoulders] 
Look  here — go  quiet !  I've  had  a  grudge  against  you 
yellow  newspaper  boys  ever  since  the  war — frothin' 
up  your  daily  hate,  an'  makin'  the  Hims  desperate. 
You  nearly  took  my  life  five  himdred  times  out  there. 
If  you  squeal,  I'm  goin'  to  take  yours  once — and  that'll 
be  enough. 

Press.  That's  awfully  unjust.    I'm  not  yellow ! 

James.  Well,  you  look  it.    Hup. 

Press.  Little  Lady  Anne,  haven't  you  any  authority 
with  these  fellows  ? 

L.  Anne.  {Resisting  Poulder's  pressure]  I  won't 
go !    I  simply  nmst  see  James  put  him  up  ! 

Press.  Now,  I  warn  you  all  plainly — there'll  be  a 
leader  on  this. 

[He  tries  to  bolt,  but  is  seized  by  James. 


12  THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  i 

James.  [Ironically]  Ho! 

Press.  My  paper  has  the  biggest  influence 


James.  That's  the  one!    Git  up  in  that  'ock  bin, 
and  mind  your  feet  among  the  claret. 
Press.  This  is  an  outrage  on  the  Press. 
James.  Then  it'll  wipe  out  one  by  the  Press  on  the 
Public — an'  leave  just  a  million  over !    Hup ! 
PoULDER.  'Enry,  give  'im  an  'and. 

The  Press  mounts,  assisted  by  James  and 
Henry. 
L.  Anne.  [Ecstatic]  It's  lovely ! 
PoTJLDER.  [Nervously]  Mind  the  '87 !    Mind ! 
James.  Mind  your  feet  in  Mr.  Poulder's  favourite 
wine! 

A  Woman's  voice  is  heard,  as  from  the  depths 
of  a  cave,  calling  "Anne  I    Anne  I" 
L.  Anne.  [Aghast]  Miss  Stokes — ^I  must  hide ! 

She  gets  behind  Poulder.  The  three  Servants 
achieve  dignified  positions  in  front  of  the 
bins.  The  voice  coTnes  nearer.  The  Press 
sits  dangling  his  feet,  grinning.  Miss 
Stokes  appears.  She  is  a  woman  of  forty- 
five  and  terribly  good  manners.  Her  greyish 
hair  is  rolled  back  off  her  forehead.  She  is 
in  a  high  evening  dress,  and  in  the  dim  light 
radiates  a  startled  composure. 
Miss  S.  PoiJder,  where  is  Miss  Anne  ? 

[Anne  lays  hold  of  the  backs  of  his  legs. 
Poulder.  [Wincing]  I  am  not  in  a  position  to  in- 
form you,  Miss. 


ACT  I  THE  FOUNDATIONS  13 

Miss  S.  They  told  me  she  was  down  here.  And 
what  is  all  this  about  a  bomb? 

PouLDEB.  [Lifting  his  hand  in  a  calming  manner] 
The  crisis  is  past;  we  have  it  in  ice.  Miss.  'Enry,  show 
Miss  Stokes !  [Henry  indicates  the  cooler. 

Miss  S.  Good  gracious !    Does  Lord  William  know  ? 

PouLDEB.  Not  at  present.  Miss. 

Miss  S.  But  he  ought  to,  at  once. 

PoULDEB.  We  'aVe  'ad  complications. 

Miss  S.  [Catching  sight  of  the  legs  of  The  Press] 
Dear  me !    What  are  those  ? 

James.  [Gloomily]  The  complications. 

Miss  Stokes  puis  up  her  glasses  and  stares 
at  them. 

Press.  [CheerfvRy]  Miss  Stokes,  would  you  kindly 
tell  Lord  William  I'm  here  from  the  Press,  and  would 
like  to  speak  to  him  ? 

Miss  S.  But — er — why  are  you  up  there? 

James.  'E  got  up  out  o'  remorse,  Miss. 

Miss  S.  What  do  you  meaji,  James? 

Press.  [Warmly]  Miss  Stokes,  I  appeal  to  you.  Is 
it  fair  to  attribute  responsibility  to  an  imsigned  jour- 
nalist for  what  he  has  to  say? 

James.  [SepvlchraUy]  Yes,  when  you've  got  'im  in 
a  nice  dark  place. 

Miss  S.  James,  be  more  respectful!  We  owe  the 
Press  a  very  great  debt. 

James.  I'm  goin'  to  pay  it.  Miss. 

Miss  S.  [At  a  loss]  Poulder,  this  is  really  most 

PouLDER.  I'm  boimd  to  keep  the  Press  out  of  temp- 


14  THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  i 

tation,  Miss,  till  I've  laid  it  all  before  Lord  William. 
'Enry,  take  up  the  cooler.  James,  watch  'im  till  we 
get  clear,  then  bring  on  the  rest  of  the  wine  and  lock 
up.    Now,  Miss. 

Miss  S.  But  where  is  Anne  ? 

Press.  Miss  Stokes,  as  a  lady ! 

Miss  S.  I  shall  go  and  fetch  Lord  William ! 

PoTJLDER.  We  will  all  go.  Miss. 

L.  Anne.  [Rushing  ovt  from  behind  his  legs]  No — me ! 

She  eludes  Miss  Stokes  and  vanishes,  followed 

by  that  distracted  but  still  well-mannered  lady. 

PouLDER.  [Looking  at  his  watch]  'Enry,  leave  the 
cooler,  and  take  up  the  wine;  tell  Thomas  to  lay  it 
out;  get  the  champagne  into  ice,  and  'ave  Charles 
'andy  in  the  'all  in  case  some  literary  bounder  comes 
punctual.  [Henry  takes  up  the  wine  and  goes. 

Press.  [Above  his  head]  I  say,  let  me  down.  This 
is  a  bit  undignified,  you  know.  My  paper's  a  great 
organ. 

PouLDER.  [After  a  momeni's  hesitation]  Well — take 
*im  down,  James;  he'll  do  some  mischief  among  the 
bottles. 

James.  'Op  off  your  base,  and  trust  to  me. 

The  Press  slides  off  the  bin's  edge,  is  received 
by  James,  and  not  landed  gently. 

PouLDER.  [Contemplating  him]  The  incident's  closed; 
no  ill-feeling,  I  hope? 

Press.  No-o. 

PouLDER.  That's  right.  [Clearing  his  throat]  While 
we're  waitin'  for  Lord  William — if  you're  interested  in 


ACT  I  THE  FOUNDATIONS  15 

wine — [Philosophically]  you  can  read  the  history  of  the 
times  in  this  cellar.  Take  'ock.  [He  points  to  a  bin] 
Not  a  bottle  gone.  German  product,  of  course.  Now, 
that  'ock  is  'avin'  the  time  of  its  life — maturin'  grandly; 
got  a  wonderful  chance.  About  the  time  we're  bringin* 
ourselves  to  drink  it,  we  shall  be  havin'  the  next  great 
war.  With  luck  that  'ock  may  lie  there  another  quar- 
ter of  a  century,  and  a  sweet  pretty  wine  it'll  be.  I 
only  hope  I  may  be  here  to  drink  it.  Ah !  [He  shakes 
his  head] — ^but  look  at  claret !  Times  are  hard  on  claret. 
We're  givin'  it  an  awful  doin'.  Now,  there's  a  Ponty 
Canny  [He  points  to  a  bin] — if  we  weren't  so  'opelessly 
allied  with  France,  that  wine  would  have  a  reasonable 
future.  As  it  is — none !  We  drink  it  up  and  up;  not 
more  than  sixty  dozen  left.  And  where's  its  equal  to 
come  from  for  a  dinner  wine — ah!  I  ask  you?  On 
the  other  hand,  port  is  steady;  made  in  a  little  country, 
all  but  the  cobwebs  and  the  old  boot  flavour;  guaran- 
teed by  the  British  Navy;  we  may  'ope  for  the  best 
with  port.    Do  you  drink  it  ? 

Press.  When  I  get  the  chance. 

PouiiDER.  Ah !  [Clears  his  throat]  I've  often  wanted 
to  ask:  What  do  they  pay  you — if  it's  not  indelicate? 
[The  Press  shrugs  his  shoulders. 
Can  you  do  it  at  the  money  ? 

[The  Press  shakes  his  head. 
Still — it's  an  easy  life !  I've  regretted  sometimes  that 
I  didn't  have  a  shot  at  it  myself;  influencin'  other 
people  without  disclosin'  your  identity — something 
very  attractive  about  that.  [Lotoering  his  voice]  Be- 


16  THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  i 

tween  man  and  man,  now — what  do  you  think  of  the 
situation  of  the  coimtry — these  processions  of  the  un- 
employed— the  Red  Flag  an'  the  Marsillaisy  in  the 
streets — all  this  talk  about  an  upheaval  ? 

Press.  Well,  speaking  as  a  Socialist 

PouLDEB.  lAstaunded]  Why,  I  thought  your  paper 
was  Tory ! 
Press.  So  it  is.    That's  nothing ! 
PouLDER.  [Open-mouthed]  Dear  me !  [Pointing  to  the 
bomb]  So  you  really  think  there's  something  in  this  ? 
James.  [SeputckraUy]  'Igh  explosive. 
Press.  [Taking  out  his  note-book]  Too  much,  any- 
way, to  let  it  drop. 

[A  pleasant  voice  calls  "Povider  I  Hallo  1" 
Poulder.  [Forming  a  trumpet  with  his  hand]  Me 
Lord! 

As  Lord  William  appears,  James,  overcome 

by  reminiscences,  salutes,  and  is  mechanically 

answered.    Lord   William   has    "charm." 

His  hair  and  moustache  are  crisp  and  just 

beginning  to  grizzle.     His  bearing  is  free, 

easy,  and  only  faintly  armoured.     He  wiU 

go  far  to  meet  you  any  day.     He  is  in  full 

evening  dress. 

Lord  W.  [Cheerfully]  I  say,  Poulder,  what  have  you 

and  James  been  doing  to  the  Press?    Liberty  of  the 

Press — it  isn't  what  it  was,  but  there  is  a  limit.    Where 

is  he? 

He  turns  to  James  between  whom  and  himself 
there  is  still  the  freemasonry  of  the  trenches. 


ACT  I  THE  FOUNDATIONS  17 

James.  [Pointing  to  Poulder]  Be'ind  the  parapet, 
me  Lord. 

The  Press  moves  out  from  where  he  has  in- 
voluntarily been  screened  by  Poulder,  who 
looks  at  James  severely.    Lord  William 
hides  a  smile. 
Press.  Very  glad  to  meet  you.  Lord  William.    My 
presence  down  here  is  quite  involuntary. 

Lord  W.  [With  a  charming  smile]  I  know.  The 
Press  has  to  put  its — er — to  go  to  the  bottom  of  every- 
thing.   Where's  this  bomb,  Poulder?    Ah! 

[He  looks  into  the  wine  cooler. 
Press.  [Taking  out  his  note-book]  Could  I  have  a 
word  with  you  on  the  crisis,   before  dinner.  Lord 
William? 

Lord  W.  It's  time  you  and  James  were  up,  Poulder. 
[Indicating  the  cooler]  Look  after  this;  tell  Lady  William 
I'll  be  there  in  a  minute. 
Poulder.  Very  good,  me  Lord. 

He  goes,  followed  by  James  carrying  the  cooler. 

As  The  Press  turns  to  look  after  them.  Lord 

William  catches  sight  of  his  back. 

Lord  W.  I  must  apologise,  sir.    Can  I  brush  you  ? 

Press.  [Dusting  himself]  Thanks;  it's  only  behind. 

[He  opens  his  note-book]  Now,  Lord  W^illiam,  if  you'd 

kindly  outline  your  views  on  the  national  situation; 

after  such  a  narrow  escape  from  death,  I  feel  they 

might  have  a  moral  effect.    My  paper,  as  you  know, 

is  concerned  with  the  deeper  aspect  of  things.     By  the 

way,  what  do  you  value  your  house  and  collection  at  ? 


18  THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  i 

Lord  W.  [Twisting  his  liiUe  moustache]  Really — I 
can't !    Really ! 

Press.  Might  I  say  a  quarter  of  a  million — lifted  in 
two  seconds  and  a  half — hundred  thousand  to  the 
second.    It  brings  it  home,  you  know. 

Lord  W.  No,  no;  dash  it!    No! 

Press.  [Disappointed]  I  see — not  draw  attention  to 
your  property  in  the  present  excited  state  of  public 
feeling  ?  Well,  suppose  we  approach  it  from  the  view- 
point of  the  Anti-Sweating  dinner.  I  have  the  list  of 
guests — very  weighty ! 

Lord  W.  Taken  some  lifting — wouldn't  they? 

Press.  [Seriously]  May  I  say  that  you  designed  the 
dinner  to  soften  the  tension,  at  this  crisis?  You  saw 
that  case,  I  suppose,  this  morning,  of  the  woman  dying 
of  starvation  in  Bethnal  Green  ? 

Lord  W.  [Desperately]  Yes — yes!  I've  been  horri- 
bly affected.  I  always  knew  this  slump  would  come 
after  the  war,  sooner  or  later. 

Press.  [Writing]  "...  had  predicted  slump." 

Lord  W.  You  see,  I've  been  an  Anti-Sweating  man 
for  years,  and  I  thought  if  only  we  covdd  come  together 
now.  .  .  . 

Press.  [Nodding]  1  see — I  see!  Get  Society  inter- 
ested in  the  Sweated,  through  the  dinner.  I  have  the 
menu  here.  [He  produces  it. 

Lord  W.  Good  God,  man — more  than  that!  I 
want  to  show  the  people  that  we  stand  side  by  side 
with  them,  as  we  did  in  the  trenches.  The  whole 
thing's  too  jolly  awful.    I  lie  awake  over  it. 

[He  walks  up  and  doton. 


ACT  I  THE  FOUNDATIONS  19 

Press.  [Scribbling]  One  moment,  please.  I'll  just 
get  that  down — "Too  jolly  awful — lies  awake  over  it. 
Was  wearbg  a  white  waistcoat  with  pearl  buttons." 
[At  a  sign  of  resentment  from  his  victim]  I  want  the 
human  touch.  Lord  William — it's  everything  in  my 
paper.  What  do  you  say  about  this  attempt  to  bomb 
you? 

Lord  W.  Well,  in  a  way  I  think  it's  d — d  natural. 

Press.  [Scribbling]  "Lord  WUliam  thought  it  d — d 
natural." 

Lord  W.  [Overhearing]  No,  no;  don't  put  that 
down.  What  I  mean  is,  I  should  like  to  get  hold  of 
those  fellows  that  are  singing  the  Marseillaise  about 
the  streets — fellows  that  have  been  in  the  war — real 
sports  they  are,  you  know — thorough  good  chaps  at 
bottom — and  say  to  them:  "Have  a  feeling  heart, 
boys;  put  yourself  in  my  position."  I  don't  believe 
a  bit  they'd  want  to  bomb  me  then. 

[He  walks  up  and  down. 

Press.  [Scribbling    and    muttering]  "The    idea    of 

brotherhood "    D'you    mind    my    saying    that? 

Word  brotherhood — always  effective — always 

[He  writes. 

Lord  W.  [Bewildered]  "Brotherhood!"  Well,  it's 
pure  accident  that  I'm  here  and  they're  there.  All 
the  same,  I  can't  pretend  to  be  starving.  Can't  go 
out  into  Hyde  Park  and  stand  on  a  tub,  can  I  ?  But 
if  I  could  only  show  them  what  I  feel — they're  such 
good  chaps — ^poor  devils. 

Press.  I  quite  appreciate !  [He  writes]  "  Camel  and 
needle's  eye."    You  were  at  Eton  and  Oxford  ?     Your 


20  THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  i 

constituency  I  know.  Clubs?  But  I  can  get  all  that. 
Is  it  your  view  that  Christianity  is  on  the  up-grade. 
Lord  William.'* 

Lord  W.  [Diihious]  What  d'you  mean  by  Christi- 
anity— loving-kindness  and  that.''  Of  course  I  think 
that  dogma's  got  the  knock.  [He  walks. 

Press.  [Writing]  "Lord  William  thought  dogma 
had  got  the  knock."  I  should  like  you  just  to  develop 
yoiu"  definition  of  Christianity.  "Loving-kindness" — 
strikes  rather  a  new  note. 

Lord  W.  New?  What  about  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount .'' 

Press.  [Writing]  "Refers  to  Sermon  on  Mount."  I 
take  it  you  don't  belong  to  any  Church,  Lord  William  ? 

Lord  W.  [Exasperated]  Well,  really — I've  been  bap- 
tised and  that  sort  of  thing.     But  look  here 

Press.  Oh!  you  can  trust  me — I  shan't  say  any- 
thing that  you'll  regret.  Now,  do  you  consider  that 
a  religious  revival  would  help  to  quiet  the  coimtry  ? 

Lord  W.  Well,  I  think  it  would  be  a  deuced  good 
thing  if  everybody  were  a  bit  more  kind. 

Press.  Ah!  [Mitsing]  I  feel  that  yom*  views  are 
strikingly  original.  Lord  William.  If  you  could  just 
open  out  on  them  a  little  more?  How  far  would  you 
apply  kindness  in  practice  ? 

Lord  W.  Can  you  apply  it  in  theory? 

Press.  I  believe  it  is  done.  But  would  you  allow 
yourself  to  be  blown  up  with  impimity? 

Lord  W.  Well,  that's  a  bit  extreme.  But  I  quite 
sympathise  with  this  chap.  Imagine  yourself  in  his 
shoes.     He  sees  a  huge  house,  all  these  bottles,  us  swill- 


ACT  I  THE  FOUNDATIONS  21 

ing  them  down;  perhaps  he's  got  a  starving  wife,  or 
consumptive  kids. 

Press.  [Writing  and  murmuring]  Um-m!     "Kids." 

Lord  W.  He  thinks:  "But  for  the  grace  of  God, 
there  swill  I.  Why  should  that  blighter  have  every- 
thing and  I  nothing?"  and  all  that. 

Press.  [Writing]  "And  all  that."  [Eagerly]  Yes? 

Lord  W.  And  gradually — ^you  see — this  contrast — 
becomes  an  obsession  with  him.  "There's  got  to  be 
an  example  made,"  he  thinks;  and — er — he  makes  it, 
don't  you  know? 

Press.  [Writing]  Ye-es?  And — ^when  you're  the 
example  ? 

Lord  W.  Well,  you  feel  a  bit  blue,  of  course.  But 
my  point  is  that  you  quite  see  it. 

Press.  From  the  other  world.  Do  you  believe  in 
a  futxire  life.  Lord  William?  The  public  took  a  lot 
of  interest  in  the  question,  if  you  remember,  at  the 
time  of  the  war.  It  might  revive  at  any  moment,  if 
there's  to  be  a  revolution. 

Lord  W.  The  wish  is  always  father  to  the  thought, 
isn't  it? 

Press.  Yes!  But — er — doesn't  the  question  of  a 
future  life  rather  bear  on  your  point  about  kindness? 
If  there  isn't  one — why  be  kind  ? 

Lord  W.  Well,  I  should  say  one  oughtn't  to  be 
kind  for  any  motive — that's  self-interest;  but  just 
because  one  feels  it,  don't  you  know. 

Press.  [Writing  vigorously]  That's  very  new — very 


new 


Lord  W.  [Simply]  You  chaps  are  wonderful. 


i                THE  FOUNDATIONS            act  i 
Press.  [Doubtfully]  You  meaxi  we're — we're 


Lord  W.  No,  really.  You  have  such  a  d — d  hard 
time.  It  must  be  perfectly  beastly  to  interview  fel- 
lows like  me. 

Press.  Oh !  Not  at  all,  Lord  William.  Not  at  all. 
I  assure  you  compared  with  a  literary  man,  it's — it's 
almost  heavenly. 

Lord  W.  You  must  have  a  wonderful  knowledge  of 
things. 

Press.  [Bridling  a  little]  Well — I  shouldn't  say  that. 

Lord  W.  I  don't  see  how  you  can  avoid  it.  You 
turn  your  hands  to  everything. 

Press.  [Modestly]  Well — yes,  yes. 

Lord  W.  I  say:  Is  there  really  going  to  be  a  revolu- 
tion, or  are  you  making  it  up,  you  Press.? 

Press.  We  don't  know.  We  never  know  whether 
we  come  before  the  event,  or  it  comes  before  us. 

Lord  W.  That's    very    deep — very    deep.    D'you 

mind  lending  me  your  note-book  a  moment.     I'd  like 

to  stick  that  down.    All  right,  I'll  use  the  other  end. 

[The  Press  hands  it  hypnoticaUy. 

Lord  W.  [Jotting]  Thanks  awfully.  Now  what's 
your  real  opinion  of  the  situation? 

Press.  As  a  man  or  a  Press  man? 

Lord  W.  Is  there  any  difference? 

Press.  Is  there  any  connection  ? 

Lord  W.  Well,  as  a  man. 

Press.  As  a  man,  I  think  it's  rotten. 

Lord  W.  [Jotting]  "Rotten."    And  as  a  pressman  ? 

Press.  [Smiling]  Prime. 


ACT  I  THE  FOUNDATIONS  23 

Lord  W.  What !    Like  a  Stilton  cheese.    Ha,  ha ! 

[He  is  about  to  write. 

Press.  My  stunt.  Lord  William.     You  said  that. 

[He  jots  ii  on  his  cuff. 

Lord  W.  But  look  here!  Would  you  say  that  a 
strong  press  movement  would  help  to  quiet  the  country  ? 

Press.  Well,  as  you  ask  me,  Lord  William,  I'll  tell 
you.    No  newspapers  for  a  month  would  do  the  trick. 

Lord  W.  [Jotting]  By  Jove !    That's  brilliant. 

Press.  Yes,  but  I  should  starve.  [He  suddenly  looks 
up,  and  his  eyes,  like  gimlets,  bore  their  way  into  Lord 
William's  pleasant,  troubled  face]  Lord  William,  you 
could  do  me  a  real  kindness.  Authorise  me  to  go  and 
interview  the  fellow  who  left  the  bomb  here;  I've  got 
his  address.  I  promise  you  to  do  it  most  discreetly. 
Fact  is — well — I'm  in  low  water.  Since  the  war  we 
simply  can't  get  sensation  enough  for  the  new  taste. 
Now,  if  I  could  have  an  article  headed:  "Bombed  and 
Bomber" — sort  of  double  interview,  you  know,  it'd 
very  likely  set  me  on  my  legs  again.  [Very  earnestly] 
Look !  [He  holds  out  his  frayed  wristbands. 

Lord  W.  [Grasping  his  hand]  My  dear  chap,  cer- 
tainly. Go  and  interview  this  blighter,  and  then 
bring  him  round  here.  You  can  do  that  for  me.  I'd 
very  much  like  to  see  him,  as  a  matter  of  fact. 

Press.  Thanksawfully;Ishallnever  forget  it.  Oh! 
might  I  have  my  note-book? 

[Lord  William  hands  it  back. 

Lord  W.  And  look  here,  if  there's  anything — ^when 

a  fellow's  fortunate  and  another's  not 

[He  puts  his  hand  into  his  breast  pocket. 


24  THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  i 

Press.  Oh,  thank  you !  But  you  see,  I  shall  have 
to  write  you  up  a  bit,  Lord  William.  The  old  aris- 
tocracy— you  know  what  the  public  still  expects;  if 
you  were  to  lend  me  money,  you  might  feel 

Lord  W.  By  Jove !    Never  should  have  dreamt 


Press.  No  !    But  it  wouldn't  do.    Have  you  a  pho- 
tograph of  yourself. 
Lord  W.  Not  on  me. 

Press.  Pity !    By  the  way,  has  it  occurred  to  you 
that  there  may  be  another  bomb  on  the  premises.'' 
Lord  W.  Phew !    I'll  have  a  look. 

He  looks  at  his  watch,  and  begins  hurriedly 
searching  the  bins,  bending  down  and  going 
on  his  knees.    The  Press  reverses  the  note- 
book again  and  sketches  him. 
Press.  [To  himself]  Ah!    That'll  do.     "Lord  Wil- 
liam examines  the  foundations  of  his  house." 

A  voice  calls  "Bill!"    The  Press  snaps  the 

note-book  to,  and  holes  up.     There,  where  the 

*' communication  trench"  runs  in,  stands  a 

tall  and  elegant  woman  in  the  extreme  of 

evening  dress. 

[With  presence  of  mind]  Lady  William.?    You'll  find 

Lord  William — Oh!  Have  you  a  photograph  of  him? 

Lady  W.  Not  on  me. 

Press.  [Eyeing    her]  Er — no — ^I    suppose    not — no. 
Excuse  me !  [He  sidles  past  her  and  is  gone. 

Lady  W.  [With  lifted  eyebrows]  Bill ! 
Lord  W.  [Emerging,  dusting  his  knees]  Hallo,  Nell ! 
I  was  just  making  sure  there  wasn't  another  bomb. 


ACT  I  THE  FOUNDATIONS  25 

Lady  W.  Yes;  that's  why  I  came  down.  Who  was 
tliat  person? 

Lord  W.  Press. 

Lady  W.  He  looked  awfully  yellow.  I  hope  you 
haven't  been  giving  yourself  away. 

Lord  W.  [Dubiotisly]  Well,  I  don't  know.  They're 
like  corkscrews. 

Lady  W.  What  did  he  ask  you  ? 

Lord  W.  What  didn't  he? 

Lady  W.  Well,  what  did  you  tell  him? 

Lord  W.  That  I'd  been  baptised — but  he  promised 
not  to  put  it  down. 

Lady  W.  Bill,  you  are  absurd. 

[She  gives  a  light  little  laugh. 

Lord  W.  I  don't  remember  anything  else,  except 
that  it  was  quite  natural  we  should  be  bombed,  don't 
you  know. 

Lady  W.  Why,  what  harm  have  we  done? 

Lord  W.  Been  born,  my  dear.  {Suddenly  serious\ 
I  say,  Nell,  how  am  I  to  tell  what  this  fellow  felt  when 
he  left  that  bomb  here? 

Lady  W.  Why  do  you  want  to  ? 

Lord  W.  Out  there  one  used  to  know  what  one's 
men  felt. 

Lady  W.  [Staring]  My  dear  boy,  I  really  don't 
think  you  ought  to  see  the  Press;  it  always  upsets  you. 

Lord  W.  Well !  Why  should  you  and  I  be  going 
to  eat  ourselves  siQy  to  improve  the  condition  of  the 
sweated,  when 

Lady  W.  [Calmly]  When    they're    going    to    "im- 


26  THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  i 

prove"  ours,  if  we  don't  look  out.     We've  got  to  get 
in  first.  Bill. 

Lord  W.  [Gloomily]  I  know.  It's  all  fear.  That's 
it !  Here  we  are,  and  here  we  shall  stay — as  if  there'd 
never  been  a  war. 

Lady  W.  Well,  thank  heaven  there's  no  "front"  to 
a  revolution.  You  and  I  can  go  to  glory  together  this 
time.     Compact !    Anything  that's  on,  I'm  to  share  in. 

Lord  W.  Well,  in  reason. 

Lady  W.  No,  in  rhyme,  too. 

Lord  W.  I  say,  your  dress ! 

Lady  W.  Yes,  Poulder  tried  to  stop  me,  but  I 
wasn't  going  to  have  you  blown  up  without  me. 

Lord  W.  You  duck.  You  do  look  stunning.  Give 
us  a  kiss ! 

Lady  W.  [Starting  back]  Oh,  Bill !  Don't  touch  me 
— ^your  hands ! 

Lord  W.  Never  mind,  my  mouth's  clean. 

They  stand  about  a  yard  apart,  and  bending 
their  faces  towards  each  oilier,  kiss  on  the  lips. 

L.  Anne.  [Appearing  suddenly  from  the  "communi- 
cation trench,"  and  tip-toeing  silently  between  them]  Oh, 
Mum !  You  and  Daddy  are  wasting  time !  Diimer's 
ready,  you  know ! 

cubtain 


ACT  II 

T?ie  single  room  of  old  Mrs.  Lemmt,  in  a  small  grey 
hoiise  in  Bethnal  Green,  the  room  of  one  cumbered 
by  little  save  age,  and  the  crockery  dSbris  of  the  past. 
A  bed,  a  cupboard,  a  coloured  portrait  of  Queen 
Victoria,  and — of  all  things  —a  fiddle,  hanging  on 
the  wall.  By  the  side  of  old  Mrs.  Lemmy  in  her 
chair  is  a  pile  of  corduroy  troupers,  her  day's  sweated 
sewing,  and  a  small  table.  She  sits  with  her  back 
to  the  loindow,  through  which,  in  the  last  of  the  light, 
the  opposite  side  of  the  little  grey  street  is  visible 
under  the  evening  sky,  wJiere  hangs  one  white  cloud 
shaped  like  a  homed  beast.  She  is  still  sewing,  and 
her  lips  mace.  Being  old,  and  lonely,  she  has  that 
habit  of  talking  to  herself,  distressing  to  those  who 
cannot  overhear.  From  the  smack  of  her  tongue 
she  teas  once  a  West  Country  cottage  woman;  from 
the  look  of  her  creased,  parchmenty  face,  she  was 
once  a  pretty  girl  loith  bUick  eyes,  in  which  there  is 
still  much  vitality.  The  door  is  opened  with  diffi- 
culty and  a  little  girl  enters,  carrying  a  pile  of  un- 
finished corduroy  trousers  nearly  as  large  as  herself. 
She  puts  them  dovm  against  the  wall,  and  advances. 
She  is  eleven  or  twelve  years  old  ;  large-eyed,  dark- 
haired,  and  sallow.  Half  a  woman  of  this  and 
27 


28  THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  ii 

half  of  another  world,  except  when  as  now,  she  is  as 
irresponsible  a  bit  of  life  as  a  little  flowering  weed 
growing  out  of  a  wall.  She  stands  looking  at  Mbs. 
Lemmy  ivith  dancing  eyes. 

L.  AiDA.  I've    brought    yer    to-morrer's    trahsers. 
Y'nt  yer  finished  wiv  to-dy's  ?    I  want  to  tyke  'em. 

Mrs.  L.  No,  me  dear.    Drat  this  last  one — me  old 
f  engers ! 
L.  AiDA.  I  leamt  some  poytry  to-dy — ^I  did. 
Mrs.  L.  Well,  I  never ! 
L.  AiDA.  [Reciting  with  unction\ 

"Little  lamb  who  myde  thee? 
Dost  thou  know  who  myde  thee. 
Gyve  thee  life  and  byde  thee  feed 
By  the  stream  and  o'er  the  mead; 
Gyve  thee  clothing  of  delight. 
Softest  clothing,  woolly,  bright; 
Gyve  thee  such  a  tender  voice, 
Myking  all  the  vyles  rejoice. 
Little  lamb  who  myde  thee  ? 
Dost  thou  know  who  myde  thee?" 
Mrs.  L.  Tes  wonderful  what  things  they  tache  yu 
nowadays. 

L.  AiDA.  When  I  grow  up  I'm  goin'  to  'ave  a  revol- 
ver an'  shoot  the  people  that  steals  my  jools. 

Mrs.  L.  Deary-me,  wherever  du  yu  get  yure  no- 
tions ? 

L.  AiDA.  An'  I'm  goin'  to  ride  on  an  'orse  be'ind  a 
man;  an'  I'm  goin'  to  ryce  trynes  in  my  motor  car. 


ACT  II  THE  FOUNDATIONS  29 

Mrs.  L.  [Dryly]  Ah !  Yu'um  gwine  to  be  very  busy, 
that's  sartin.    Can  you  sew  ? 

L.  AiDA.  [With  a  smile]  Nao. 

Mrs.  L.  Don'  they  tache  yu  that,  there? 

L.  AiDA.  [Blending  contempt  and  a  lingering  curi- 
osity] Nao. 

Mrs.  L.  Tes  wonderful  genteel. 

L.  AiDA.  I  can  sing,  though. 

Mrs.  L.  Let's  'ear  yu,  then. 

L.  AiDA.  [Shaking  her  head]  I  can  ply  the  pianner. 
I  can  ply  a  tune. 

Mrs.  L.  Whose  pianner? 

L.  AiDA.  Mrs.  Brahn's  when  she's  gone  aht. 

Mrs.  L.  Well,  yu  are  gettin'  edjucation !  Du  they 
tache  yu  to  love  yure  neighbours  ? 

L.  AiDA.  [Ineffably]  Nao.  [Straying  to  the  toindow] 
Mrs.  Lemmy,  what's  the  moon  ? 

Mrs.  L.  The  mune?  Us  yused  to  zay  'twas  made 
o'  crame  cheese. 

L.  AiDA.  I  can  see  it. 

Mrs.  L.  Ah !  Don*  yu  never  go  wishin'  for  it,  me 
dear. 

L.  AiDA.  I  daon't. 

Mrs.  L.  Folks  as  wish  for  the  mune  never  du  no 
gude. 

L.  AiDA.  [Craning  out,  hriUiant]  I'm  goin'  dahn  in 
the  street.    I'll  come  back  for  yer  trahsers. 

Mrs.  L.  Well,  go  yu,  then,  an'  get  a  breath  o'  fresh 
air  in  yure  chakes.    I'll  sune  'a  feneshed. 


30  THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  ii 

L.  AiDA.  [Solemnly]  I'm  goin'  to  be  a  dancer,  I  am. 

She  rushes  suddenly  to  the  door,  puUs  it  open, 

and  is  gone. 

Mrs.  L.  [Looking  after  her,  and  talking  to  herself] 

Ah!     'Er've  a-got  all 'er  troubles  before 'er !     "Little 

lamb,  u  made  'ee?"  [Cackling]  'Tes  a  funny  world,  tu ! 

[She  sings  to  herself. 

"There  is  a  green  'ill  far  away 
Without  a  city  wall. 
Where  our  dear  Lord  was  crucified, 
'U  died  to  save  us  all." 

The  door  is  opened,  and  Lemmy  comes  in  ;  a 
liMe  man  with  a  stubble  of  dark  moustache 
and  spiky  dark  hair;  large,  peculiar  eyes 
he  has,  and  a  look  of  laying  his  ears  back, 
a  look  of  doubting,  of  perversity  with  laughter 
up  the  sleeve,  that  grows  on  those  who  have 
to  do  with  gas  and  water.  He  shuts  the  door. 
Mrs.  L.  Well,  Bob,  I  'aven't  a-seen  yu  this  tu 
weeks. 

Lemmy  cornea  up  to  his  mother,  and  sits  dovm 

on  a  stool,  sets  a  tool-bag  between  his  knees, 

and  speaks  in  a  cockney  voice. 

Lemmy.  Well,  old  lydy  o'  leisure!    Wot  would  y* 

'ave  for  supper,  if  yer  could  choose — ^salmon  wivaht 

the  tin,  an'  tipsy  cyke  ? 

Mrs.  L.  [Shaking  her  head  and  smiling  blandly] 
That's  showy.  Toad  in  the  'ole  I'd  'ave — and  a  glass 
o'  port  wine. 


ACT  II  THE  FOUNDATIONS  31 

LE>rMY.  Providential.  [He  opens  a  tool-bag]  Wot 
d'yer  think  I've  got  yer? 

Mrs.  L.  I  'ope  yu've  a-got  yureself  a  job,  my  son ! 

Lemmy.  [With  his  peculiar  smile]  Yus,  or  I  couldn't 
'ave  afforded  yer  this.  [He  takes  out  a  bottle]  Not  'arf ! 
This'U  put  the  blood  into  yer.  Pork  wine — once  in 
the  cellars  of  the  gryte.  We'll  drink  the  ryyal  family 
in  this. 

[He  apostrophises  the  portrait  of  Queen  Victoria. 

Mbs.  L.  Ah!  She  was  a  praaper  gude  queen.  I 
see  'er  once,  when  'er  was  bein'  hurried. 

Lemmy.  Ryalties — I  got  nothin'  to  sy  agynst  'em 
in  this  covmtry.  But  the  Styte  'as  got  to  'ave  its 
pipes  seen  to.  The  *ole  show's  goin'  up  pop.  Yer'll 
wyke  up  one  o'  these  dyes,  old  lydy,  and  find  yerself 
on  the  roof,  wiv  nuffin'  between  yer  an'  the  grahnd. 

Mrs.  L.  I  can't  tell  what  yu'm  talkin'  about. 

Lemmy.  We're  goin'  to  'ave  a  triumpherat  in  this 
country — Liberty,  Equality,  Fraternity;  an'  if  yer  arsk 
me,  they  won't  be  in  power  six  months  before  they've 
cut  each  other's  throats.  But  I  don't  care — I  want 
to  see  the  blood  flow!  [Dispassionately]  I  don'  care 
'oose  blood  it  is.     I  want  to  see  it  flow ! 

Mrs.  L.  [Indulgently]  Yu'm  a  funny  boy,  that's 
sartin. 

Lemmy.  [Carving  at  the  cork  vxith  a  knife]  This  'ere 
cork  is  like  Sasiety — rotten;  it's  old — old  an'  moulderin'. 
[He  holds  up  a  bit  of  cork  on  the  point  of  the  knife] 
Crumblin'  under  the  wax,  it  is.  In  goes  the  screw  an' 
out  comes  the  cork.  [With  unction] — an'  the  blood 


32  THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  ii 

flows.  [Tipping  the  bottle,  he  lets  a  drop  fall  into  the 
middle  of  his  hand,  and  licks  it  up.  Gazing  with  queer 
and  doubting  commiseration  at  his  mother]  Well,  old 
dear,  wot  shall  we  'ave  it  aht  of — the  gold  loving-cup, 
or — what?  'Ave  yer  supper  fust,  though,  or  it'll  go 
to  yer  'ead!  [He  goes  to  the  cupboard  and  takes  out  a 
dish  in  which  a  little  bread  is  sopped  in  a  little  milk] 
Cold  pap!  'Ow  can  yer?  'Yn't  yer  got  a  kipper  in 
the  'ouse  ? 

Mrs.  L.  [Admiring  the  bottle]  Port  wine!  'Tis  a 
brave  treat!  I'll  'ave  it  out  of  the  "Present  from 
Margitt,"  Bob.  I  tuk  'ee  then-  by  excursion  when  yu 
was  six  months.  Yu  'ad  a  shrimp  an'  it  choked  yu 
praaperly.  Yu  was  always  a  squeamy  little  feller.  I 
can't  never  think  'ow  yu  managed  in  the  war-time, 
makin'  they  shells. 

Lemmy,  who  has  brought  to  the  table  two  mugs 

and  blown  the  du^t  ovi  of  them,  Jills  them 

with  port,  and  hands  one  to  his  mx>ther,  who 

is  eating  her  bread  and  milk. 

Lemmt.  Ah!    Nothin'  worried  me,  'cept  the  want 

o*  soap. 

Mbs.  L.  [Cackling  gently]  So  it  du  still,  then! 
Luke  at  yure  face.  Yu  never  was  a  clean  boy,  like 
Jim. 

She  puts  out  a  thin  finger  and  touches  his 
cheek,  whereon  is  a  black  smudge. 
Lemmt.  [Scrubbing  his  cheek  with    his  sleeve]    All 
right !    Y'see,  I  come  stryte  'ere,  to  get  rid  o'  this. 

[He  drinks. 


ACT  II  THE  FOUNDATIONS  S3 

Mrs.  L.  [Eating  her  bread  and  milk]  'Tes  a  pity  yu'm 
not  got  a  wife  to  see't  yu  wash  yureself. 

Lemmy  [Goggling]  Wife!  Not  "me — I  daon't  want 
ter  myke  no  food  for  pahder.  Wot  oh! — they  said, 
time  o'  the  war — ye're  fightin'  for  yer  children's 
'eritage.  Well,  wot's  the  'eritage  like,  now  we've  got 
it?  Empty  as  a  shell  before  yer  put  the  'igh  explosive 
in.  Wot's  it  like?  [Warming  to  his  theme]  hike  a 
prophecy  in  the  pypers — not  a  bit  more  substantial. 

Mrs.  L.  [Slightly  hypnotised]  How  'e  du  talk !  The 
gas  goes  to  yure  *ead,  I  think ! 

Lemmt.  I  did  the  gas  to-dy  in  the  cellars  of  an 
'ouse  where  the  wine  was  mountains  'igh.  A  regiment 
couldn't  'a  drunk  it.  Marble  pillars  in  the  'all,  butler 
broad  as  an  observytion  balloon,  an'  four  conscientious 
khaki  footmen.  When  the  guns  was  roarin'  the  talk 
was  all  for  no  more  o'  them  glorious  weeds — style  an* 
luxury  was  orf.  See  wot  it  is  naow.  You've  got  a 
bare  crust  in  the  cupboard  'ere,  I  works  from  'and  to 
mouth  in  a  glutted  market — ^an'  there  they  stand  abaht 
agyne  in  their  britches  in  the  'ouses  o'  the  gryte.  I 
was  reg'lar  overcome  by  it.  I  left  a  thing  in  that  cel- 
lar— I  left  a  thing.  .  .  .  It'll  be  a  bit  ork'ard  for  me 
to-morrer.  [Drinks  from  his  mug. 

Mrs.  L.  [Placidly,  feeling  the  warmth  of  the  little  she 
has  drunk]  What  thing  ? 

Lemmy.  Wot  thing  ?  Old  lydy,  ye're  like  a  winkle 
afore  yer  opens  'er — I  never  see  anything  so  peaceful. 
'Ow  d'yer  manage  it  ? 

Mrs.  L.  Settin'  'ere  and  thenkin'. 


S4  THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  ii 

Lemmy.  Wot  abaht? 

Mrs.  L.  We-el — ^Money,  an'  the  works  o'  God. 
Lemmy.  Ah !    So  yer  give  me  a  thought  sometimes. 
Mrs.  L.  {Lifting  her  mug]  Yu  ought  never  to  ha' 
spent  yure  money  on  this,  Bob  ! 
Lemmy.  I  thought  that  meself . 
Mrs.  L.  Last  time  I  'ad  a  glass  o'  port  wine  was 
the  day  yure  brother  Jim  went  to  Ameriky.  {SmAcking 
her  lips]  For  a  teetotal  drink,  it  du  warm  'ee ! 

Lemmy.  [Raising  his  mug]  Well,  'ere's  to  the  British 
revolution !     'Ere's  to  the  conflygrytion  in  the  sky ! 

Mrs.  L.  [Comfortably]  So    as    to    kape    up    therr, 
*twon't  du  no  'arm. 

Lemmy  goes  to  the  window  and  unhooks  his 
fiddle ;  he  stands  with  it  halfway  to  his 
shoulder.    Suddenly   he   opens   the   window 
and    leans    out.    A    confused    murmur    of 
voices  is  heard,  and  a  snatch  of  the  Marseil- 
laise, sung  by  a  girl.     Then  the  shuffling 
tramp  of  feet,  and  figures  are  passing  in  the 
street. 
Lemmy.  [Turning — excited]  Wot'd    I    tell    yer,    old 
lydy  ?    There  it  is — there  it  is ! 
Mrs.  L.  [PladdLy]  What  is? 

Lemmy.  The   revolution.  [He   cranes   out]  They've 
got  it  on  a  barrer.    Cheerio ! 
Voice.  [Answering]  Cheerio! 
Lemmy.  [Leaning  out]  I  sy — ^you  'yn't  tykin'  the 
body,  are  yer? 
Voice.  Nao. 


ACT  II  THE  FOUNDATIONS  35 

Lemmy.  Did  she  die  o'  starvytioa — O.K. .'' 
Voice.  She  bloomin'  well  did;  I  know  'er  brother. 
Lemmy.  Ah !    That'll  do  us  a  bit  o'  good ! 
Voice.  Cheerio! 
Lemmy.  So  long! 
Voice.  So  long ! 

The  girl's  voice  is  heard  again  in  the  distance 
singing  the  Marseillaise.     The  door  is  flung 
open  and  Little  Aida  comes  running  in 
again. 
Lemmy.  'Alio,  little  Aida ! 

L.  Aida.  'Alio,  I  been  follerin'  the  corfin.     It's  bet- 
ter than  an  'orse  dahn ! 
Mbs.  L.  What  coflSn  ? 

L.  Aida.  Why,  'er's  wot  died  o'  starvytion  up  the 
street.  They're  goin'  to  tyke  it  to  'Yde  Pawk,  and 
'oiler. 

Mbs.  L.  Well,  never  yu  mind  wot  they'm  goin'  to 
du.    Yu  wait  an'  take  my  trousers  like  a  gude  gell. 

She  puts  her  mug  aside  and  takes  up  her  un- 
finished pair  of  troupers.     But  the  tvine  has 
entered  her  fingers,  and  strength  to  pv^h  the 
needle  through  is  lacking. 
Lemmy.  [Tuning  his  fiddle]  Wot '11  yer  'ave,  little 
Aida.'*  "Dead  March  in  Saul"  or  "When  the  fields 
was  white  wiv  dysies"  ? 
L.  Aida.  \With  a  hop  and  a  brilliant  smile]  Aoh 

yus !    "When  the  fields " 

Mrs.  L.  [With  a  gesture  of  despair]  Deary  me !  I 
'aven't  a-got  the  strength ! 


THE  FOUNDATIONS 


ACT  II 


Lemmy.  Leave  'em  alone,  old  dear!  No  one'U  be 
goin'  aht  wivaht  trahsers  to-night  'cos  yer  leaves  that 
one  undone.     Little  Aida,  fold  'em  up  ! 

Little  Aida  methodically  folds  the  jive  finished 
pairs  of  trousers  into  a  pile.  Lemmy  begins 
playing.  A  smile  conies  on  the  face  of  Mrs. 
Lemmy,  who  is  rubbing  her  fingers.  Little 
Aida,  trousers  over  arm,  goes  and  stares  at 
Lemmy  playing. 
Lemmy.  [Stojyping]  Little  Aida,  one  o'  vese  dyes 
yer'll  myke  an  actress.     I  can  see  it  in  yer  fyce ! 

[Little  Aida  looks  at  him  wide-eyed. 

Mbs.  L.  Don't  'ee  putt  things  into  'er  'ead,  Bob  ! 

Lemmy.  'Tyn't  'er  'ead,  old  lydy — it's  lower.     She 

wants  feedin' — feed  'er  an'  she'll  rise.  [He  strikes  into 

the  " Machichi"]  Look  at  'er  naow.    I  tell  yer  there's 

a  fortime  in  'er. 

[Littlb  Aida  has  put  out  her  tongue. 
Mbs.  L.  I'd  simer  there  was  a  gude  'eart  in  'er  than 
any  fortune. 

L.  Aida.  [Hugging  her  pile  of  trousers]  It's  thirteen 
pence  three  farthin's  I've  got  to  bring  yer,  an'  a  penny 
aht  for  me,  mykes  twelve  three  farthin's.  [With  the 
same  little  hop  and  sudden  smile]  I'm  goin'  to  ride  back 
on  a  bus,  I  am. 

Lemmy.  Well,  you  myke  the  most  of  it  up  there; 
it's  the  nearest  you'll  ever  git  to  'eaven. 

Mrs.  L.  Don'   yu   discourage   'er.   Bob;   she'm   a 
gude  little  thing,  an't  yu,  dear? 
L.  Aida.  [Simply]  Yus. 


ACT  II  THE  FOUNDATIONS  37 

Lemmt.  Not  'arf.    Wot  c'her  do  wiv   yesterdy's 
penny  ? 
L.  AiDA.  Movies. 
Lemmy,  An'  the  dy  before  ? 
L.  AiDA.  Movies. 

Lemmy.  Wot'd  I  tell  yer,  old  lydy — she's  got  vicious 
tystes,  she'll  finish  in  the  theayter  yet.    Tyke  my  tip, 
little  Aida;  you  put  every  penny  into  yer  foundytions, 
yer '11  get  on  the  boards  quicker  that  wy. 
Mrs.  L.  Don*  yu  pay  no  'eed  to  his  talk. 
L.  Aida.  I  daon't. 

Lemmy.  Would  yer  like  a  sip  aht  o'  my  mug  ? 
L.  Aida.  [Brilliant]  Yus. 

Mrs.  L.  Not  at  yure  age,  me  dear,  though  it  is 
teetotal. 

Little  Aida  puts  her  head  on  one  side,  like 
a  dog  trying  to  understand. 
Lemmy.  Well,  'ave  one  o'  my  gum-drops. 

[Holds  Old  a  paper. 
Little  Aida,  brilliant,  takes  a  flat,  dark  sub- 
stance from  it,  and  puts  it  in  her  mouth. 
Give  me  a  kiss,  an'  I'll  give  yer  a  penny. 

Little  Aida  shakes  her  head,  and  leans  out 
oj  window. 
Muwer,  she  daon't  know  the  valyer  of  money. 
Mrs.  L.  Never  mind  'ira,  me  dear. 
L.  Aida.  [&ujcking     the    gum-drop — toiih    difficulty] 
There's  a  taxi-cab  at  the  comer. 

Little  Aida  runs  to  the  door.  A  figure  stands 
in  tfie  doorway  ;  she  skids  round  him  and 
out.    The  Press  comes  in. 


38  THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  ii 

Lemmy.  [Dubiously]  Wot — oh! 

Press.  Mr.  Lemmy.? 

Lemmy.  The  syme. 

Press.  I'm  from  the  Press. 

Lemmy.  Blimy. 

Press.  They  told  me  at  your  place  you  were  very 
likely  here. 

Lemmy.  Yus — I  left  Downin'  Street  a  bit  early 
to-dy !  [He  twangs  the  fiddle-strings  pompously. 

Press.  [Taking  end  his  note-book  and  loriting]  "Fid- 
dles while  Rome  is  burning!"  Mr.  Lemmy,  it's  my 
business  at  this  very  critical  time  to  find  out  what  the 
nation's  thinking.  Now,  as  a  representative  working 
man 

Lemmy.  That's  me. 

Press.  You  can  help  me.    What  are  your  views  ? 

Lemmy.  [Putting  down  fiddle]  Voos  ?     Sit  dahn ! 

The  Press  sits  on  the  stool  which  Lemmy  has 
vacated. 
The    Press — my    Muvver.    Seventy-seven.    She's    a 
wonder;  'yn't  yer,  old  dear? 

Press.  Very  happy  to  make  your  acquaintance. 
Ma'am.  [Heu^rites]  "Mrs.  Lemmy,  one  of  the  veterans 

of  industry "     By  the  way,  I've  just  passed  a  lot 

of  people  following  a  cofi&n. 

Lemmy.  Centre  o'  the  cyclone — cyse  o'  starvytion; 
you  'ad  'er  in  the  pyper  this  mornin'. 

Press.  Ah,  yes !  Tragic  occurrence.  [Looking  at  the 
trousers]  Hub  of  the  Sweated  Industries  just  here.  I 
especially  want  to  get  at  the  heart 


ACT  II  THE  FOUNDATIONS  89 

Mrs.  L.  'Twasn't  the  'eart,  'twas  the  stomach. 

Press.  [Writing]  "Mrs.  Lemmy  goes  straight  to 
the  point." 

Lemmy.  Mister,  is  it  my  voos  or  Muvver's  yer  want  ? 

Press.  Both. 

Lemmy.  'Cos  if  yer  get  Muvver's,  yer  won't  'ave 
time  for  mine.  I  tell  yer  stryte  [Confidentially]  she's 
got  a  glawss  o'  port  wine  in  'er.  Naow,  mind  yer,  I'm 
not  anxious  to  be  intervooed.    On  the  other  'and, 

anyfink  I  might  'ave  to  sy  of  valyer There  is  a 

clawss  o'  politician  that  'as  nuffin  to  sy Aoh !  an' 

daon't  'e  sy  it  just!  I  dunno  wot  pyper  yer  repre- 
sent  

Press.  [Smiling]  Well,  Mr.  Lemmy,  it  has  the  big- 
gest influ 

Lemmy.  They  all  'as  that;  dylies,  weeklies,  evenin's, 
Sundyes;  but  it's  of  no  consequeijce — my  voos  are  open 
and  above-board.    Naow,  wot  shall  we  begin  abaht? 

Press.  Yourself,  if  you  please.  And  I'd  like  you 
to  know  at  once  that  my  paper  wants  the  hiunan  note, 
the  real  heart-beat  of  things. 

Lemmy.  I  see;  sensytion!  Well,  'ere  am  I — a  fust- 
clawss  plumber's  assistant — in  a  job  to-dy  an'  out  to- 
morrer.  There's  a  *eart-beat  in  that,  I  tell  yer.  'Oo 
knows  wot  the  morrer  'as  for  me ! 

Press.  [Writing]  "The  great  human  issue — Mr. 
Lemmy  touches  it  at  once." 

Lemmy.  I  sy — keep  my  nyme  aht  o'  this;  I  don'  go 
in  fer  self-advertisement. 


40  THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  ii 

Press.  [Writing]  "True  working-man — modest  as 
usual." 

Lemmy.  I  daon't  want  to  embarrass  the  Gover'- 
ment.  They're  so  ticklish  ever  since  they  got  the 
'abit,  war-time,  o'  mindin'  wot  people  said. 

Press.  Right-o! 

Lemmy.  For  instance,  suppose  there's  goin'  to  be  a 

revolution [The  Press  wriies  with  energy. 

'Ow  does  it  touch  me.?    Like  this:  I  my  go  up — I 
cawn't  come  dahn;  no  more  can  Muvver. 

Mrs.  L.  [Surprisingly]  Us  all  goes  down  into  the 
grave. 

Press.  "Mrs.  Lemmy  interjects  the  deeper  note." 

Lemmt.  Naow,  the  gryte — they  can  come  dahn,  but 
they  cawn't  go  up !  See !  Put  two  an'  two  together, 
an'  that's  'ow  it  touches  me.  [He  niters  a  throaty  laugh] 
'Ave  yer  got  that? 

Press.  [Quizzical]  Not  go  up  ?  What  about  bombs, 
Mr.  Lemmy.'' 

Lemmy.  [Dubious]  Wot  abaht  'em?  I  s'pose  ye're 
on  the  comic  pypers  ?  'Ave  yer  noticed  wot  a  weak- 
ness they  'ave  for  the  'orrible  ? 

Press.  [Writing]  "A  grim  humour  peeped  out  here 
and  there  through  the  earnestness  of  his  talk." 

[He  sketches  Lemmy's  profile. 

Lemmy.  We  'ad  an  explosion  in  my  factory  time  o' 
the  war,  that  woidd  just  ha'  done  for  you  comics. 
[He  Tneditates]  Lord!  They  was  after  it  too, — they 
an'  the  Sundyes;  but  the  Censor  did  'em.  Strike  me, 
I  could  tell  yer  things ! 


ACT  II  THE  FOUNDATIONS  41 

Press.  That's  what  I  want,  Mr.  Lemmy;  tell  me 
things ! 

Lemmy.  [Musing]  It's  a  funny  world,  'yn't  it  ?  'Ow 
we  did  blow  each  other  up !  [Getting  up  to  admire]  I  sy, 
I  shall  be  syfe  there.  That  won't  betry  me  ano- 
nymiety.     Why !  I  looks  like  the  Prime  Minister ! 

Press.  [Rather  hurt]  You  were  going  to  tell  me 
things. 

Lemmy.  Yus,  an'  they'll  be  the  troof,  too. 

Press.  I  hope  so;  we  don't 

Lemmy.  Wot  oh! 

Press.  [A  little  confused]  We  always  try  to  verify 

Lemmy.  Yer  leave  it  at  tryin',  daon't  yer .?  Never, 
mind,  ye're  a  gryte  institootion.  Blimy,  yer  do  have 
jokes  wiv  it,  spinnin'  rahnd  on  yer  own  tyles,  denyin' 
to-dy  wot  ye're  goin'  to  print  to-morrer.  Ah,  well ! 
Ye're  like  all  of  us  below  the  line  o'  comfort — live 
dyngerously — every  dy  yer  last.  That's  wy  I'm  inter- 
ested in  the  future. 

Press.  Well  now — the  future.  \Wriiing]  "He  proph- 
esies." 

Lemmy.  It's  syfer, 'yn't  it?  [He  winks]  No  one  never 
looks  back  on  prophecies.  I  remembers  an  editor — 
spring  o'  1915 — stykin'  his  reputytion  the  war'd  be 
over  in  the  follerin'  October.  Increased  'is  circulytion 
abaht  'arf  a  million  by  it.  1917 — an'  war  still  on — 'ad 
'is  readers  gone  back  on  'im?  Nao!  They  was  in- 
creasin'  like  rabbits.  Prophesy  wot  people  want  to 
believe,  an'  ye're  syfe.  Naow,  I'll  styke'  my  reputytion 
on  somethin',  you  tyke  it  dahn  word  for  word.    This 


42  THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  ii 

country's  goin'  to  the  dawgs Naow,  'ere's  the 

sensytion — unless  we  gets  a  new  religion. 

Press.  Ah !    Now  for  it — ^yes  ? 

Lemmy.  In  one  word:  "Kindness."  Daon't  mistyke 
me,  nao  sickly  sentiment  and  nao  patronizin'.  Me  as 
kind  to  the  millionaire  as  'im  to  me.  [Fills  his  mug  and 
drinks.] 

Press.  [Struck]  That's  queer!  Kindness!  [Writing] 
"Extremes  meet.  Bombed  and  bomber  breathing  the 
same  music." 

Lemmy.  But  'ere's  the  interestin'  pynt.  Can  it  be 
done  wivaht  blood? 

Press.  [Writing]  "He  doubts." 

Lemmy.  No  daht  wotever.  It  cawn't!  Blood — 
and — ^kindness!  Spill  the  blood  o'  them  that  aren't 
kind — an'  there  ye  are ! 

Press.  But  pardon  me,  how  are  you  to  tell  ? 

Lemmy.  Blimy,  they  leaps  to  the  heye ! 

Press.  [Laying  doivn  his  note-book]  I  say,  let  me  talk 
to  you  as  man  to  man  for  a  moment. 

Lemmy.  Orl  right.    Give  it  a  rest  I 

Press.  Your  sentiments  are  familiar  to  me.  I've 
got  a  friend  on  the  Press  who's  very  keen  on  Christ 
and  kindness;  and  wants  to  strangle  the  last  king  with 
the — hamstrings  of  the  last  priest. 

Lemmy.  [Greatly  intrigtied]  Not  'arf !    Does  'e  ? 

Press.  Yes.  But  have  you  thought  it  out?  Because 
he  hasn't. 

Lemmy.  The  diflSculty  is — ^where  to  stop. 

Pbebs.  Where  to  begin. 


ACT  II  THE  FOUNDATIONS  48 

Lemmt.  Lawd !  I  could  begin  almost  anywhere. 
Why,  every  month  abaht,  there's  a  cove  turns  me  aht 
of  a  job  'cos  I  daon't  do  just  wot  'e  likes.  They'd  'ave 
to  go.    I  tell  yer  stryte — the  Temple  wants  cleanin'  up. 

Press.  Ye-es.  If  I  wrote  what  I  thought,  I  should 
get  the  sack  as  quick  as  you.  D'you  say  that  justifies 
me  in  shedding  the  blood  of  my  bosses  ? 

Lemmy.  The  yaller  Press  'as  got  no  blood — 'as  it? 
You  shed  their  ile  an'  vinegar — that's  wot  you've  got 
to  do.  Stryte — do  yer  believe  in  the  noble  mission  o* 
the  Press  ? 

Press.  [Enigmatically]  Mr.  Lemmy,  I'm  a  Press- 
man. 

LcMMT.  [Goggling]  I  see.  Not  much!  [Gently  jog- 
ging his  mother's  elbow]  Wyke  up,  old  lydy ! 

For  Mrs.  Lemmy,  who  has  been  sipping  placidly 
at  her  port,  is  nodding.     The  evening  has 
dravm  in.    Lemmy  strikes  a  match  on  his 
trousers  and  lights  a  candle. 
Blood  an'  kindness — that's  what's  wanted — 'specially 
blood!    The  'istory  o'  me  an*  my  family'U  show  yer 
that.    Tyke  my  bruwer  Fred — crushed  by  burycrats. 
Tyke  Muvver  'erself.    Talk  o'  the  wrongs  o'  the  peo- 
ple !    I  tell  yer  the  foundytions  is  rotten.  [He  empties 
the  bottle  into  his  mother's  mug]  Daon't  mind  the  mud 
at  the  bottom,  old  lydy — it's  all  strengthenin' !    You 
tell  the  Press,  Muvver.    She  can  talk  abaht  the  pawst. 

Press.  [Taking  up  his  note-book,  and  becoming  again 
his  professional  self]  Yes,  Mrs.  Lemmy?  "Age  and 
Youth— Past  and  Present " 


44  THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  ii 

Mrs.  L.  Were  yu  talkin'  about  Fred?  [The  port  has 
vxirmed  her  veins,  the  colour  in  her  eyes  and  cheeks  has 
deepened]  My  son  Fred  was  always  a  gude  boy — never 
did  nothin'  before  'e  married.  I  can  see  Fred  [She 
bends  forward  a  little  in  her  chair,  looking  straight  before 
her]  comin'  in  wi'  a  pheasant  'e'd  found — terrible  'e 
was  at  findin'  pheasants.  When  father  died,  an'  yu 
was  comin'.  Bob,  Fred  'e  said  to  me:  "Don't  yu  never 
cry.  Mother,  I'll  look  after  'ee."  An'  so  'e  did,  till  'e 
married  that  day  six  months  an'  tuke  to  the  drink  in 
sorrer.     'E  wasn't  never  the  same  boy  again — not 

Fred.    An'  now  'e's  in  That.    I  can  see  poor  Fred 

She  slowly  wipes  a  tear  out  of  the  comer  of  an 
eye  with  the  hack  of  her  finger. 

Press.  [Puzzled]  In — That.? 

Lemmt.  [Sotlo  voce]  Come  orf  it!  Prison!  'S  wot 
she  calls  it. 

Mrs.  L.  [Cheerful]  They  say  life's  a  vale  o'  sorrows. 
Well,  so  'tes,  but  don'  du  to  let  yiu-eself  thenk  so. 

Press.  And  so  you  came  to  London,  Mrs.  Lemmy  ? 

Mrs.  L.  Same  year  as  father  died.  With  the  four 
o'  them — that's  my  son  Fred,  an'  my  son  Jim,  an'  my 
son  Tom,  an'  Alice.  Bob  there,  'e  was  bom  in  London 
— an'  a  praaper  time  I  'ad  of  et. 

Press.  [Writing]  "Her  heroic  struggles  with  pov- 
erty  " 

Mrs.  L.  Worked  in  a  laundry,  I  ded,  at  fifteen 
shellin's  a  week,  an'  brought  'em  all  up  on  et  till  Alice 
'ad  the  gallopin'  consumption.  I  can  see  poor  Alice 
wi'  the  little  red  spots  in  'er  cheeks — an'  I  not  knowin' 


ACT  II  THE  FOUNDATIONS  45 

wot  to  du  wi'  her — but  I  always  kept  up  their  buryin* 
money.  Funerals  is  very  dear;  Mr.  Lemmy  was  six 
pound  ten. 

Press.  "High  price  of  Mr.  Lemmy." 

Mrs.  L.  I've  a-got  the  money  for  when  my  time 
come;  never  touch  et,  no  matter  'ow  things  are.  Bet- 
ter a  little  goin'  short  here  below,  an'  enter  the  king- 
dom of  'eaven  independent. 

Press.  [Wriiing]  "Death  before  dishonour — heroine 
of  the  slums.    Dickens — Betty  Higden." 

Mrs.  L.  No,  sir.  Mary  Lemmy.  I've  seen  a-many 
die,  I  'ave;  an'  not  one  grievin'.  I  often  says  to  meself : 
[With  a  little  laugh]  "Me  dear,  when  yu  go,  yu  go 
'appy.  Don'  yu  never  fret  about  that,"  I  says.  An' 
so  I  will;  I'll  go  'appy. 

She  stays  quite  stUl  a  moment,  and  behind  her 
Lemmy  draws  one  finger  across  his  face. 
[Smiling]  "Yure  old  fengers'U  'ave  a  rest.     Think  o' 
that!"  I  says.     "'TwUl  be  a  brave  change."    I  can 
see  myself  lyin'  there  an'  duin'  nothin'. 

Again  a  pause,  while  Mrs.  Lemmt  sees  herself 
doing  nothing. 

Lemmy.  Tell  abaht  Jim,  old  lydy. 

Mrs.  L.  My  son  Jim  'ad  a  family  o'  seven  in  six 
years.  "I  don'  know  'ow  'tes,  Mother,"  'e  used  to 
say  to  me;  "they  just  sim  to  come!"  That  was  Jim 
— never  knu  from  day  to  day  what  was  comin'. 
"Therr's  another  of  'em  dead,"  'e  used  to  «ay,  "'tes 
fimny,  tu."  "Well,"  I  used  to  say  to  'im;  "no  won- 
der, poor  little  things,  livin'  in  they  model  dwellin's. 


46  THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  ii 

Therr's  no  air  for  'em,"  I  used  to  say.  "Well,"  'e  used 
to  say,  "what  can  I  du.  Mother?  Can't  afford  to  live 
in  Park  Lane."  An*  'e  tuke  an'  went  toAmeriky. 
[Her  voice  for  the  first  time  is  truly  doleful]  An'  never 
came  back.  Fine  feller.  So  that's  my  four  sons — 
One's  dead,  an'  one's  in — That,  an'  one's  in  Ameriky, 
an'  Bob  'ere,  poor  boy,  'e  always  was  a  talker. 

Lemmy,  who  has  re-seated  himself  in  the  tcin- 
dow  and  taken  up  his  fiddle,  twangs  the 
strings. 

Fbess.  And  now  a  few  words  about  your  work, 
Mrs.  Lemmy? 

Mrs.  L.  Well,  I  sews. 

Press.  [Writing]  "Sews."    Yes? 

Mrs.  L.  [Holding  up  her  unfinished  pair  of  trousers] 
I  putt  in  the  button'oles,  I  stretches  the  flies,  I  lines 
the  crutch,  I  putt  on  this  bindin',  [She  holds  up  the 
calico  that  binds  the  top]  I  sews  on  the  buttons,  I  presses 
the  seams — Tuppence  three  farthin's  the  pair. 

Press.  Twopence  three  farthings  a  pair!  Worse 
than  a  penny  a  line ! 

Mrs.  L.  In  a  gude  day  I  gets  thru  four  pairs,  but 
they'm  gettin'  plaguey  'ard  for  my  old  fengers. 

Press.  [Writing]  "A  monumental  figure,  on  whose 
labour  is  built  the  mighty  edifice  of  our  industrialism." 

Lemmy.  I  sy — that's  good.  Yer'll  keep  that,  won't 
yer? 

Mrs.  L.  I  finds  me  own  cotton,  tuppence  three 
farthin's,  and  other  expension  b  a  penny  three  farthin's. 

Press.  And  are  you  an  exception,  Mrs.  Lemmy  ? 


ACT  II  THE  FOUNDATIONS  47 

Mrs.  L.  What's  that? 

Lemmy.  Wot  price  the  uvvers,  old  lydy?  Is  there 
a  lot  of  yer  sewm'  yer  fingers  orf  at  tuppence  'ypenny 
the  pah-  ? 

Mrs.  L.  I  can't  tell  yu  that.  I  never  sees  nothin* 
in  'ere.  I  pays  a  penny  to  that  little  gell  to  bring  me 
a  dozen  pair  an'  fetch  'em  back.  Poor  little  thing, 
she'm  'ardly  strong  enough  to  carry  'em.  Feel! 
They'm  very  'eavy ! 

Press.  On  the  conscience  of  Society ! 

Lemmy.  I  sy — put  that  dahn,  won't  yer? 

Press.  Have  things  changed  much  since  the  war, 
Mrs.  Lemmy? 

Mrs.  L.  Cotton's  a  lot  dearer. 

Press.  All  round,  I  mean. 

Mrs.  L.  Aw  !  Yu  don'  never  get  no  change,  not  in 
my  profession.  [She  oscillates  the  trousers]  I've  a-been 
in  trousers  fifteen  year;  ever  since  I  got  tu  old  for 
laimdry. 

Press.  [Writing]  "For  fifteen  years  sewn  trousers.'* 
What  would  a  good  week  be,  Mrs.  Lemmy  ? 

Mrs.  L.  'Tes  a  very  gude  week,  five  shellin's. 

Lemmy.  [From  the  toindow]  Bloomin'  millionairess, 
Muwer.  She's  lookin'  forward  to  'eaven,  where  vey 
don't  wear  no  trahsers. 

Mrs.  L.  [With  spirit]  'Tidn'  for  me  to  zay  whether 
they  du.  An'  'tes  on'y  when  I'm  a  bit  low-sperrity- 
like  as  I  wants  to  go  therr.  What  I  am  a-lukin'  for- 
ward to,  though,  'tes  a  day  in  the  country.  I've  not 
a-had  one  since  before  the  war.    A  kind  lady  brought 


48  THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  ii 

me  in  that  bit  of  'eather;  'tes  wonderful  sweet  stuflF 
when  the  'oney's  in  et.  When  I  was  a  little  gell  I  used 
to  zet  in  the  'eather  gatherin'  the  whorts,  an'  me  little 
mouth  all  black  wi'  eatin'  them.  'Twas  in  the  'eather 
I  used  to  zet,  Simdays,  courtin'.  All  flesh  is  grass — 
an'  'tesn't  no  bad  thing — grass. 

Press  [Writing]  "The  old  paganism  of  the  country." 
What  is  your  view  of  life,  Mrs.  Lemmy.'' 

Lemmt.  [StuMerdy]  Wot  is  'er  voo  of  life?  Shall  I 
tell  yer  mine .''  Life's  a  disease — a  blinkin'  oak-apple ! 
Daon't  myke  no  mistyke.  An'  'uman  life's  a  yumour- 
ous  disease;  that's  all  the  diflference.  Why — wot  else 
can  it  be  ?  See  the  bloomin'  promise  an'  the  blighted 
performance — different  as  a  'eadline  to  the  noos  inside. 
But  yer  couldn't  myke  Muvver  see  vat — not  if  yer 
talked  to  'er  for  a  week.  Muvver  still  believes  in  fings. 
She's  a  country  gell;  at  a  'undred  and  fifty  she'll  be  a 
country  gell,  won't  yer,  old  lydy? 

Mrs.  L.  Well,  'tesn't  never  been  'ome  to  me  in 
London.  I  lived  in  the  coimtry  forty  year — I  did  my 
lovin'  there;  I  hurried  father  therr.  Therr  bain't 
nothin'  in  life,  yu  know,  but  a  bit  o'  lovin' — all  said  an' 
done;  bit  o'  lovin*,  with  the  wind,  an'  the  stars  out. 

Lemmt.  [In  a  laud  apologetic  whisper]  She  'yn't  often 
like  this.    I  told  yer  she'd  got  a  glawss  o'  port  in  'er. 

Mrs.  L.  'Tes  a  brave  pleasure,  is  lovin'.  I  likes  to 
zee  et  in  young  folk.  I  likes  to  zee  'em  kissin';  shows 
the  'eart  in  'em.  'Tes  the  'eart  makes  the  world  go 
round;  'tesn't  nothin'  else,  in  my  opinion. 

Press.  [Writing]  " — sings  the  swan  song  of  the 
heart." 


ACT  II  THE  FOUNDATIONS  49 

Mrs.  L.  [Overhearing]  No,  I  never  yeard  a  swan 
sing — never!  But  I  tell  'ee  what  I  'ave  'card;  the 
gells  singin'  in  th'  orchard  'angin'  up  the  clothes  to 
dry,  an'  the  cuckoos  callin'  back  to  'em.  [Smiling] 
There's  a-many  songs  in  the  cotmtry — the  'eart  b  free- 
like  in  th'  coimtry ! 

Lemmt.  [Sotto  voce]  Gi'  me  the  Strand  at  ar'  past 
nine. 

Press.  [Writing]  "Town  and  country " 

Mrs.  L.  'Tidn't  like  that  in  London;  one  day's  jest 
like  another.  Not  but  what  therr's  a  'eap  o'  kind- 
'eartedness  'ere. 

LiaiMY.  [Gloomily]  Kind-'eartedness !  I  daon't  fink ! 
"Boys  an'  gells  come  out  to  play." 

[He  plays  the  old  tune  on  his  fiddle. 

Mrs.  L.  [Singing]  "Boys  an' gells  come  out  to  play. 
The  mune  is  shinin'  bright  as  day."  [She  laughs]  I 
used  to  sing  like  a  lark  when  I  was  a  gell. 

[Little  Aida  enters. 

L.  Aida.  There's  'undreds  f ollerin'  the  corfin.  ' Yn't 
you  goin',  Mr.  Lemmy — it's  dahn  your  wy ! 

Lemmt.  [Dubioiisly]  Well  yus — I  s'pose  they'll  miss 
me. 

L.  Aida.  Aoh !    Tyke  me ! 

Press.  What's  this.? 

Lemmt.  The  revolution  in  'Yde  Pawk. 

Press.  [Struck]  In  Hyde  Park?  The  very  thing. 
I'll  take  you  down.     My  taxi's  waiting. 

L.  Aida.  Yus;  it's  breathin'  'ard,  at  the  corner. 


50  THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  n 

Press.  [Looking  at  his  watch]  Ah !  and  Mrs.  Lemmy. 
There's  an  Anti-Sweating  Meeting  going  on  at  a  house 
in  Park  Lane.  We  can  get  there  in  twenty  minutes 
if  we  shove  along.  I  want  you  to  tell  them  about  the 
trouser-making.    You'll  be  a  sensation ! 

Lemmy.  [To  himself]  Sensytion!  'E  cawn't  keep 
orf  it! 

Mrs.  L.  Anti-Sweat.  Poor  fellers !  I  'ad  one  come 
to  see  me  before  the  war,  an'  they'm  still  goin'  on? 
Wonderful,  an't  it? 

Press.  Come,  Mrs.  Lemmy;  drive  in  a  taxi,  beauti- 
ful moonlit  night;  and  they'll  give  you  a  splendid  cup 
of  tea. 

Mrs.  L.  [Unmoved]  Ah!  I  cudn't  never  du  with- 
out my  tea.  There's  not  an  avenin'  but  I  thinks  to 
meself :  Now,  me  dear,  yu've  a-got  one  more  to  fennish, 
an'  then  yu'll  'ave  yiu-e  cup  o'  tea.  Thank  you  for 
callin',  all  the  same. 

Lemmy.  Better  siccumb  to  the  temptytion,  old  lydy; 
joyride  wiv  the  Press;  marble  floors,  pillars  o'  gold; 
conscientious  footmen;  lovely  lydies;  scuppers  runnin' 
tea!  An'  the  revolution  goin'  on  across  the  wy. 
'Eaven's  nufBnk  to  Pawk  Lyne. 

Press.  Come  along,  Mrs.  Lemmy ! 

Mrs.  L.  [SeraphicaUy]  Thank  yu.  I'm  a-feelin'  very 
comfortable.  'Tes  wonderful  what  a  drop  o'  wine'U 
du  for  the  stomach. 

Press.  A  taxi-ride ! 

Mrs.  L.  [Placidly]  Ah!  Iknow'em.  They'm  very 
busy  things. 


ACT  II  THE  FOUNDATIONS  51 

Lemmy.  Muwer  shuns  notority.  [Sotto  voce  to  The 
Press]  But  you  watch  me !    I'll  rouse  'er. 

He  takes  up  his  fiddle  and  sits  on  the  toindow 
seat.  Above  the  little  houses  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  street,  the  moon  has  risen  in  the 
dark  blue  sky,  so  that  the  cloud  shaped  like  a 
beast  seems  leaping  over  it.  Lemmy  plays 
the  first  notes  of  the  Marseillaise.  A  black 
cat  on  the  window-siU  outside  looks  in,  hunch- 
ing its  back.  Little  Aida  barks  at  her. 
Mrs.  Lemmy  struggles  to  her  feet,  sweeping 
the  empty  dish  and  spoon  to  the  floor  in  the 
effort. 

The  dish  ran  awy  wiv  the  spoon!  That's  right,  old 
lydy !  [He  stops  playing. 

Mrs.  L.  [Smiling,  and  moving  her  hands]  I  like  a 
bit  o'  music.    It  du  that  muve  'ee. 

Press.  Bravo,  Mrs.  Lemmy.    Come  on ! 

Lemmy.  Come  on,  old  dear!  We'll  be  in  time  for 
the  revolution  yet. 

Mrs.  L.  'Tea  'earin'  the  Old  'Undred  again ! 

Lemmy.  [To  The  Press]  She  'yn't  been  aht  these 
two  years.  [7*0  his  mother,  who  has  put  up  her  hands  to 
her  head]  Nao,  never  mmd  yer  'at.  [To  The  Press] 
She  'yn't  got  none !  [Aloud]  No  West-End  lydy  wears 
anyfink  at  all  in  the  evenin' ! 

Mrs.  L.  'Ow'm  I  lukin',  Bob? 

Lemmt.  Fust-clawss;  yer've  got  a  colour  fit  to  toast 


52  THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  ii 

by.  We'll  show  'em  yer've  got  a  kick  in  yer.  [He  takes 
her  arm]  Little  Aida>  ketch  'old  o'  the  sensytions. 

[He  indicates  the  trousers. 
The  Press  takes  Mrs.  Lemmy's  other  arm. 
Mrs.  L.  [With  an  excited  little  laugh]  Quite  like  a 


geU 


And,  smiling  between  her  son  and  The  Press, 
she  passes  out;  Little  Aida,  xoith  a  fling  of 
her  heels  and  a  wave  of  the  trousers,  follows. 


CURTAIN 


ACT    III 

An  octagon  ante-room  off  the  hall  at,  Lord  William 
Dromondt's.  a  shining  room  lighted  by  gold  can- 
delabra, with  gold-curtained  pillars,  through  which 
the  shining  hall  and  a  little  of  the  grand  stairway 
are  visible.  A  small  table  loith  a  gold-coloured  cloth 
occupies  the  very  centre  of  the  room,  which  has  a 
polished  parquet  floor  and  high  white  walls.  Gold- 
coloured  doors  on  the  left.  Opposite  these  doors  a 
.  window  wUJi  gold-coloured  curtains  looks  out  on 
Park  Lane.  Lady  William  is  standing  restlessly 
between  the  double  doors  and  the  arch  which  leads 
to  the  hall.  James  is  stationary  by  the  double  doors, 
from  behind  which  come  sounds  of  speech  and  ap- 
plause. 

PouLDER.  [Entering  from  the  hall\  His  Grace  the 
Duke  of  Exeter,  my  lady. 

His  Grace  enters.    He  is  old,  and  youthful, 
toith  a  high  colour  and  a  short  rough  white 
beard.    Lady  William  advances  to  meet  him. 
PouLDER  stands  by. 
Lady  W.  Oh !  Father,  you  are  late. 
His  G.  Awful  crowd  in  the  streets,  Nell.    They've 
got  a  coffin — couldn't  get  by. 
53 


64  THE  FOUNDATIONS         act  in 

Lady  W.  Coffin?    Whose? 

His  G.  The  Government's  I  should  think — no 
flowers,  by  request.     I  say,  have  I  got  to  speak  ? 

Lady  W.  Oh!  no,  dear. 

His  G.  H'm!  That's  unlucky.  I've  got  it  here. 
[He  looks  dovm  his  cuff]  Found  something  I  said  in  1914 
— just  have  done. 

Lady  W.  Oh!  If  you've  got  it — James,  ask  Lord 
William  to  come  to  me  for  a  moment.  [James  vanishes 
through  the  door.  To  The  Duke]  Go  in.  Grand-dad; 
they'll  be  so  awfully  pleased  to  see  you.    I'll  tell  Bill. 

His  G.  Where's  Anne  ? 

Lady  W.  In  bed,  of  course. 

His  G.  I  got  her  this — rather  nice? 

He  has  taken  from  his  breast-pocket  one  of  those 
street  toy-men  that  jump  head  over  heels  on 
your  hand;  he  puis  it  through  its  paces. 

Lady  W.  [Much  interested]  Oh !  no,  but  how  sweet ! 
She'll  simply  love  it. 

PouLDER.  If  I  might  suggest  to  Your  Grace  to  take 
it  in  and  operate  it.  It's  sweated.  Your  Grace.  They 
— er — make  them  in  those  places. 

His  G.  By  Jove !    D'you  know  the  price,  Poulder  ? 

PouLDER.  [Interrogatively]  A  penny,  is  it?  Some- 
thing paltry,  Your  Grace ! 

His  G.  Where's  that  woman  who  knows  everything; 
Miss  Munday  ? 

Lady  W.  Oh !    She'll  be  in  there,  somewhere. 

His  Grace  moves  on,  and  passes  through  the 
doors.     The  sound  of  applause  is  heard. 


ACT  III  THE  FOUNDATIONS  55 

PouLDEB.  [Discreetly]  Would  you  care  to  see  the 
bomb,  my  lady? 

Lady  W.  Of  course — first  quiet  moment. 

PouLDEB.  I'll  bring  it  up,  and  have  a  watch  put  on 
it  here,  my  lady. 

Lord  William  comes  through  the  double  doors^ 
followed  by  James.    Pouldeb  retires. 

Lord  W.  Can't  you  come,  Nell  ? 

Lady  W.  Oh !  Bill,  your  Dad  wants  to  speak. 

Lord  W.  The  deuce  he  does — that's  bad. 

Lady  W.  Yes,  of  course,  but  you  must  let  him;  he's 
found  something  he  said  in  1914. 

Lord  W.  I  knew  it.  That's  what  they'll  say. 
Standing  stock  still,  while  hell's  on  the  jump  around  us. 

Lady  W.  Never  mind  that;  it'll  please  him;  and 
he's  got  a  lovely  little  sweated  toy  that  turns  head  over 
heels  at  one  penny. 

Lord  W.  H'm !    Well,  come  on. 

Lady  W.  No,  I  must  wait  for  stragglers.  There's 
sure  to  be  an  editor  in  a  hurry. 

PoULDER.  {Announcing]  Mis-ter  Gold-rum! 

Lady  W.  [Sotto  voce]  And  there  he  is !  [She  advances 
to  meet  a  thin,  straggling  man  in  eyeglasses,  who  is  smil- 
ing absently]  How  good  of  you ! 

Mr.  G.  Thanks  awfully.  I  just — er — and  then  I'm 
afraid  I  must — er —  Things  look  very —  Thanks — 
Thanks  so  much. 

He  straggles  through  the  doors,  and  is  enclosed 
by  James. 

Pouldeb.  Miss  Mun-day. 


56  THE  FOUNDATIONS         act  hi 

Lady  W.  There!    I  thought  she  was  in She 

really  is  the  most  unexpected  woman !  How  do  you 
do  ?    How  awfully  sweet  of  you ! 

Miss  M.  [An  elderly  female  schoolboy]  How  do  you 
do?  There's  a  spiflSng  crowd.  I  believe  things  are 
really  going  Bolshy.  How  do  you  do.  Lord  William  ? 
Have  you  got  any  of  our  people  to  show  ?  I  told  one 
or  two,  in  case — they  do  so  simply  love  an  outing. 

James.  There  are  three  old  chips  in  the  lobby,  my 
Lord.  > 

Lord  W.  What?  Oh!  I  say!  Bring  them  in  at 
once.    Why — they're  the  hub  of  the  whole  thing. 

James.  [Going]  Very  good,  my  Lord. 

Lady  W.  I  am  sorry.  I'd  no  notion;  and  they're 
such  dears  always. 

Miss  M.  I  must  tell  you  what  one  of  them  said  to 
me.  I'd  told  him  not  to  use  such  bad  language  to  his 
wife.  "Don't  you  worry,  Ma !"  he  said,  "I  expect  you 
can  do  a  bit  of  that  yourself ! " 

Lady  W.  How  awfully  nice !    It's  so  like  them. 

Miss  M.  Yes.    They're  wonderful. 

Lohd  W.  I  say,  why  do  we  always  call  them  they? 

Lady  W.  [Puzzled]  Well,  why  not? 

Lord  W.  They  I 

Miss  M.  [Struck]  Quite  right.  Lord  William !  Quite 
right!  Another  species.  They!  I  must  remember 
that.     They  I  [She  passes  on. 

Lady  W.  [About  to  follow]  Well,  I  don't  see;  aren't 
they? 


ACT  HI         THE  FOUNDATIONS  57 

Lord  W.  Never  mind,  old  girl;  follow  on.  They'll 
come  in  with  me. 

Miss   Munday    and   Lady    William    pats 
through  the  dcmble  doors. 
PouLDEB.  [Announcing]  Some  sweated  workers,  my 
Lord. 

There  enter  a  tall,  thin,  oldish  woman ;  a  short, 
thin,  very  larne  man,  her  husband ;  and  a 
stoutish  middle-aged  woman  vyiih  a  rolling 
eye  and  gait,  all  very  poorly  dressed,  with 
lined  and  heated  faces. 

Lord  W.  [Shaking  hands]  How  d'you  do!  De- 
lighted to  see  you  all.  It's  awfully  good  of  you  to 
have  come. 

Lame  M.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tomson.  We  *ad  some 
trouble  to  find  it.  You  see,  I've  never  been  in  these 
parts.  We  'ad  to  come  in  the  oven ;  and  the  bus-bloke 
put  us  dahn  wrong.    Are  you  the  proprietor  ? 

Lord  W.  [ModesUy]  Yes,  I — er 

Lame  M.  You've  got  a  nice  plyce.  I  says  to  the 
missis,  I  says:  "*E's  got  a  nice  plyce  'ere,"  I  says; 
"there's  room  to  turn  rahnd." 

Lord  W.  Yes — shall  we ? 

Lame  M.  An'  Mrs.  Annaway  she  says:  "Shouldn't 
mind  livin'  'ere  meself,"  she  says;  "but  it  must  cost  'im 
a  tidy  penny,"  she  says. 

Lord  W.  It  does — it  does;  much  too  tidy.  Shall 
we ? 

Mrs.  Ann.  [Rolling  her  eye]  I'm  very  pleased  to 


68  THE  FOUNDATIONS         act  m 

'ave  come.     I've  often  said  to  'em:  "Any  time  you 
want  me,"  I've  said,  "I'd  be  pleased  to  come." 
Lord  W.  Not  so  pleased  as  we  are  to  see  you. 
Mbs.  Ann.  I'm  sure  you're  very  kind. 
James.  [From  the  double  doors,  through  which  he  has 
received  a  message]  Wanted  for  your  speech,  my  Lord. 
Lord  W.  Oh !   God !    Poulder,   bring   these   ladies 
and  gentleman  in,  and  put  them  where  everybody  can 
— where  they  can  see  everybody,  don't  you  know. 

[He  goes  ovi  hurriedly  through  the  double  doors. 
Lame  M.  Is  'e  a  lord.'' 
Poulder.  He  is.     Follow  me. 

He  moves  towards  the  doors,  the  three  workers 

follow. 

Mrs.  Ann.  [Stopping  before  James]  You  'yn't  one, 

I  suppose  ?  [James  stirs  no  muscle. 

Poulder.  Now  please.  [He  opens  the  doors.     The 

voice  of  Lord  William  speaking  is  heard]  Pass  in. 

The  Three  Workers  pass  in,  Poulder  and 
J  AMES  follow  them.     The  doors  are  not  closed, 
and  through  this  aperture  comes  the  voice  of 
Lord  William,  puncticated  and  supported 
by  decorous  applause. 
Little  Anne  runs  in,  and  listens  at  the  win^ 
dow  to  the  confused  and  distant  murmurs 
of  a  crowd. 
Voice  of  Lord  W.  We  propose  to  move  for  a  fur- 
ther advance  in  the  chain-making  and — er — er — match- 
box industries.  [Applause. 
LiTTLB  Anne  runs  across  to  the  door,  to  listen. 


ACT  III  THE  FOUNDATIONS  69 

[On  rising  voice]  I  would  conclude  with  some  general 
remarks.  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  the  great  natural, 
but — er — ^artificial  expansion  which  trade  experienced 
the  first  years  after  the  war  has — er — collapsed.  These 
are  hard  times.  We  who  are  fortunate  feel  more  than 
ever — er — ^responsible — [He  stammers,  loses  the  thread 
of  his  thoughts. — Applatise] — er — responsible — [The 
thread  still  eludes  him] — er 

L.  Anne.  [Poignantly]  Oh,  Daddy ! 

Lord  W.  [Desperately]  In  fact — er — you  know  how 
— er — responsible  we  feel. 

L.  Anne.  Hooray!  [Applause. 

There  float  in  through  the  vnndows  the  hoarse 
and  distant  sounds  of  the  Marseillaise,  as 
sung  by  London  voices. 

Lord  W.  There  is  a  feeling  in  the  air — that  I  for 
one  should  say  deliberately  was — er — a  feeling  in  the 
air — er — a  feeling  in  the  air 

L.  Anne.  [Agonized]  Oh,  Daddy !    Stop ! 

[James  enters,  and  closes  the  door  behind  him. 

James.  Look  here!  'Ave  I  got  to  report  you  to 
Miss  Stokes? 

L.  Anne.  No-o-o! 

James.  Well,  I'm  goin'  to. 

L.  Anne.  Oh,  James,  be  a  friend  to  me !  I've  seen 
nothing  yet. 

James.  No;  but  you've  eaten  a  good  bit,  on  the 
stairs.    What  price  that  Peach  Melba? 

L.  Anne.  I  can't  go  to  bed  till  I've  digested  it — 
can  I  ?    There's  such  a  lovely  crowd  in  the  street ! 


60  THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  iii 

James.  Lovely?    Ho! 

L.  Anne.  [Wheedling]  James,  you  couldn't  tell  Miss 
Stokes !    It  isn't  in  you,  is  it  ? 
James.  [Grinning]  That's  right. 
L.  Anne.  So — I'll   just  get  imder  here.  [She  gets 
under  the  table]  Do  I  show  ? 
James.  [Stooping]  Not  'arf ! 

[Poulder  enters  from  the  hall. 
PoULDEK.  What  are  you  doin'  there.? 
James.  [Between  him  and  the  table — raising  himself] 
Thinkin'. 

•^  PouLDEK  purses  his  m/)uth  to  repress  his  feel- 

ings. 
Poulder.  My  orders  are  to  fetch  the  bomb  up  here 
for  Lady  William  to  inspect.     Take  care  no  more 
writers  stray  in. 

James.  How  shall  I  know  'em  ? 
Poulder.  Well — either  very  bald  or  very  hairy. 
James.  Right-o !  [He  goes. 

Poulder,  loith  his  hack  to  the  table,  busies 
himself  vnth  the  set  of  his  collar. 
Poulder.  [Addressing  an  imaginary  audience — in  a 
low  bvi  important  voice]  The — ^ah — situation  is  seerious. 

It  is  up  to  us  of  the — ah — leisured  classes 

The  face  of  Little  Anne  is  poked  out  close  to 
his  legs,  and  tilts  upwards  in  wonder  towards 
the  bow  of  his  waistcoat. 
to — ah — keep  the  people  down.    The  oUa  poUoi  are 

clamourin' 

Miss  Stokes  appears  from  the  hall,  between 
the  'pillars. 


ACT  III         THE  FOUNDATIONS  61 

Miss  S.  Poulder! 

PouLDER.  [Making  a  volte  face  towards  the  table] 
Miss? 

Miss  S.  Where  is  Anne  ? 

Poulder.  [Vexed  at  the  disturbance  of  his  speech]  Ex- 
cuse me,  Miss — to  keep  track  of  Miss  Anne  is  fortu- 
nately no  part  of  my  dooties. 

Miss  S.  She  really  is  naughty. 

Poulder.  She  is.  If  she  was  mine,  I'd  spank  her. 
The  smiling  face  of  Little  Anne  becomes  visi- 
ble again  close  to  his  legs. 

Miss  S.  Not  a  nice  word. 

Poulder.  No;  but  a  pleasant  haction.  Miss  Anne's 
the  limit.  In  fact,  Lord  and  Lady  William  are  much 
too  kind-'earted  all  round.  Take  these  sweated  work- 
ers; that  class  o'  people  are  quite  'opeless.  Treatin' 
them  as  your  equals,  shakin'  'ands  with  'em,  givin'  'em 
tea — it  only  puflFs  'em  out.  Leave  it  to  the  Church, 
I  say. 

Miss  S.  The  Church  is  too  busy,  Poulder. 

Poulder.  Ah!  That  "Purity  an'  Future  o'  the 
Race  Campaign."  I'll  tell  you  what  I  think's  the  dan- 
ger o'  that.  Miss.  So  much  purity  that  there  won't 
be  a  future  race.  [Ex'panding]  Purity  of  'cart's  an  ex- 
cellent thing,  no  doubt,  but  there's  a  want  of  nature 
about  it.  Same  with  this  Anti-Sweating.  Unless 
you're  anxious  to  come  down,  you  must  not  put  the 
lower  classes  up. 

Miss  S.  I  don't  agree  with  you  at  all,  Poulder. 

Poulder.  Ah!  You  want  it  both  ways.  Miss.  I 
should  imagine  you're  a  Liberal. 


62  THE  FOUNDATIONS         act  hi 

Miss  S.  [Horrifiedl  Oh,  no !  I  certainly  am  not. 
PouLDER.  Well,  I  judged  from  your  takin'  cocoa. 
Funny  thing  that,  about  cocoa — how  it  still  runs 
through  the  Liberal  Party !  It's  virtuous,  I  suppose. 
Wine,  beer,  tea,  coffee — all  of  'em  vices.  But  cocoa — 
you  might  drink  a  gallon  a  day  and  annoy  no  one  but 
yourself !  There's  a  lot  o'  deep  things  in  life.  Miss ! 
Miss  S.  Quite  so.    But  I  must  find  Anne. 

[She  recedes. 
PouLDEB.  [Stiavely]  Well,  I  wish  you  every  success; 
and  I  hope  you'll  spank  her.     This  modern  education 
— there's  no  fruitiness  in  it. 

L.  Anne,  [From  under  the  table]  Poulder,  are  you 
virtuous  ? 
Poulder.  [Jumping]  Good  Ged ! 
L.  Anne.  D'you    mind    my   asking.?    I   promised 
James  I  would. 
Poulder.  Miss  Anne,  come  out! 

[The  four  footmen  appear  in  the  hall,  Henrt 

carrying  the  wine  cooler. 

James.  Form  fours — by  your  right — quick  march! 

[They  enter,  marching  down  right  of  table. 

Right  incline — Mark  time !    Left  turn !     'Alt !    'Enry, 

set  the  bomb  !    Stand  easy ! 

Henry  places  the  wine  cooler  on  the  table  and 

covers  it  with  a  blue  embroidered  Chinese  mat, 

which  has  occupied  the  centre  of  the  tablecloth. 

Poulder.  Ah !   You  will  'ave  your  game !    Thomas, 

take  the  door  there!    James,  the  'all!    Admit  titles 


ACT  III  THE  FOUNDATIONS  63 

an'  bishops.    No  literary  or  Labour  people.    Charles 
and  'Enry,  'op  it  and  'ang  about ! 

Charles  and  Henry  go  out,  the  other  too 

move  to  their  stations. 
PouLDER  stands  by  the  table  looking  at  the 
covered  bomb.     The  hoarse  and  distant  sounds 
of  the  Marseillaise  float  in  again  from  Park 
Lane. 
[Moved  by  some  deep  feeling]  And  this  house  an  'orspi- 
tal  in  the  war !    I  ask  you — what  was  the  good  of  all 
our  sacrifices  for  the  country  ?    No  town  'ouse  for  four 
seasons — rustygettin'  in  the  shires,  not  a  soul  but  two 
boys  under  me.    Lord  William  at  the  front.  Lady  Wil- 
liam at  the  back.    And  all  for  this!  [He  points  sadly 
at  the  cooler]  It  comes  of  meddlin'  on  the  Continent. 
I  had  my  prognostications  at  the  time.  [Jo  James]  You 
remember  my  sayin'  to  you  just  before  you  joined  up: 
"Mark  my  words — we  shall  see  eight  per  cent,  for  our 
money  before  this  is  over !" 

James.  [SepulchraUy]  I  see  the  eight  per  cent.,  but 
not  the  money. 
Poulder.  Hark  at  that ! 

The  sounds  of  the  Marseillaise  grow  louder. 
He  shakes  his  head. 

I'd  read  the  Riot  Act.    They'll  be  lootin'  this  house 
next! 

James.  We'll  put  up  a  fight  over  your  body:  "Bar- 
tholomew Poulder,  faithful  unto  death!"  Have  you 
insured  your  life? 


64  THE  FOUNDATIONS         act  iii 

PouLDER.  Against  a  revolution  ? 

James.  Act  o'  God !    Why  not  ? 

PouLDER.  It's  not  an  act  o'  God. 

James.  It  is;  and  I  sympathise  with  it. 

PouLDER.  You — what? 

James.  I  do — only — hands  off  the  gov'nor. 

PouLDER.  Oh!  Reelly!  Well,  that's  something, 
I'm  glad  to  see  you  stand  behind  him,  at  all  events. 

James.  /  stand  in  front  of  'im  when  the  scrap  begins ! 

PouLDER.  Do  you  insinuate  that  my  heart's  not  in 
the  right  place  ? 

James.  Well,  look  at  it!  It's  been  creepin'  down 
ever  since  I  knew  you.  Talk  of  your  sacrifices  in  the 
war — they  put  you  on  yotu*  honour,  and  you  got  stout 
on  it.    Rations — not  'arf ! 

PouLDER.  [Staring  at  him]  For  independence,  I've 
never  seen  yoiu*  equal,  James.  You  might  be  an  Aus- 
tralian ! 

James.  [Suavely]  Keep  a  civil  tongue,  or  I'll  throw 
you  to  the  crowd !  [He  comes  forward  to  the  table]  Shall 
I  tell  you  why  I  favour  the  gov'nor  ?  Because,  with  all 
his  pomp,  he's  a  gentleman,  as  much  as  I  am.  Never 
asks  you  to  do  what  he  wouldn't  do  himself.  What's 
more,  he  never  comes  it  over  you.  If  you  get  drimk, 
or — well,  you  understand  me,  Poulder — he'll  just  say: 
"Yes,  yes;  I  know,  James !"  till  he  makes  you  feel  he's 
done  it  himself.  [Sinking  his  voice  mysteriously]  I've 
had  experience  with  him,  in  the  war  and  out.  Why ! 
he  didn't  even  hate  the  Huns,  not  as  he  ought.  I  tell 
you  he's  no  Christian. 


ACT  III  THE  FOUNDATIONS  65 

PouLDER.  Well,  for  irreverence ! 


James.  [Obstinately]  And  he'll  never  be.     He's  got 
too  soft  a  heart. 

L.  Anne.  [Beneath  the  table — shrilly]  Hurrah ! 

PouLDER.  [Jumping]  Come  out.  Miss  Anne ! 

James.  Let  'er  alone ! 

PouLDEB.  In  there,  under  the  bomb.? 

James.  [Contemptiumsly]  Silly  ass!    You  should  take 
*em  lying  down ! 

PouLDEK.  Look  here,  James !    I  can't  go  on  in  this 
revolutionary  spirit;  either  you  or  I  resign. 

James.  Crisis  in  the  Cabinet! 

PouLDER.  I  give  you  your  marchin'  orders. 

James.  [Ineffably]  What's  that  you  give  me? 

Pouldeb.  Thomas,  remove  James! 

[Thomas  grins. 

L.  Anne.  [Who,  with  open  movih,  has  crept  out  to 
see  the  fun]  Oh !    Do  remove  James,  Thomas ! 
PouLDER.  Go  on,  Thomas ! 

Thomas  takes  one  step  towards  James,  who  lays 
a  hand  on  the  Chinese  mat  covering  the  bomb. 

James.  [Grimly]  If  I  lose  control  of  meself 

L.  Anne.  [Clapping  her  hands]  Oh!  James!    Dolose 
control !    Then  I  shall  see  it  go  oflF ! 

James.  [To  Pouldeb]  Well,  I'll  merely  empty  the 
pail  over  you ! 

FouiJ)£B.  This  is  not  becomin' ! 

[He  walks  out  into  the  haU. 


66  THE  FOUNDATIONS         act  iii 

James.  Another  strategic  victory!  What  a  Boche 
he'd  have  made.    As  you  were,  Tommy ! 

Thomas  returns  to  the  door.     The  sound  of 
-prolonged  applause  comes  from  within. 
That's  a  bishop. 
L.  Anne.  Why  .J* 

James.  By  the  way  he's  drawia'.  It's  the  fine 
fightin'  spirit  in  'em.  They  were  the  backbone  o'  the 
war.  I  see  there's  a  bit  o'  the  old  stuflf  left  in  you, 
Tommy. 

L.  Anne.  [Scrutinizing  the  widely-grinning  Thomas] 
Where.''     Is  it  in  his  mouth? 

James.  You've  still  got  a  sense  of  your  superiors. 
Didn't  you  notice  how  you  moved  to  Poulder's  orders, 
me  boy;  an'  when  he  was  gone,  to  mine  ? 
L.  Anne.  [To  Thomas]  March! 

[The  grinning  Thomas  remains  immovable. 
He  doesn't,  James ! 

James.  Look  here.  Miss  Anne — your  lights  ought  to 
be  out  before  ten.     Close  in.  Tommy ! 

[He  and  Thomas  move  towards  her. 
L.  Anne.  [Dodging]  Oh,  no !    Oh,  no !    Look ! 

The  footmen  stop  and  turn.     There  between  the 
pillars  stands  Little  Aida  with  the  trousers, 
her  face  briUlant  with  surprise. 
jAiSHa.  Good  Lord !    What's  this  ? 

Seeing  Little  Anne,  Little  Aida  approaches, 
fascinated,  and  the  two  children  sniff  at  each 
other  as  it  were  like  two  little  dogs  walking 
round  and  round. 


ACT  III  THE  FOUNDATIONS  67 

L.  Anne.  [Suddenly]  My  name's  Anne;  what's 
yours  ? 

L.  AiDA.  Aida. 

L,  Anne.  Are  you  lost? 

L.  Aida.  Nao. 

L.  Anne.  Are  those  trousers? 

L.  Aida.  Yus. 

L.  Anne.  Whose? 

L.  Aida.  Mrs.  Lemmy's. 

L.  Anne.  Does  she  wear  them? 

[Little  Aida  smiles  brilliantly. 

L.  Aida.  Nao.    She  sews  'em. 

L.  Anne.  [Touching  the  trousers]  They  are  hard. 
James's  are  much  softer;  aren't  they,  James?  [James 
deigns  no  reply]  What  shall  we  do?  Would  you  like 
to  see  my  bedroom  ? 

L.  Aida.  [With  a  hop]  Aoh,  yus ! 

James.  No. 

L.  Anne.  Why  not  ? 

James.  Have  some  sense  of  what's  fittin'. 

L.  Anne.  Why  isn't  it  fittin'?  [To  Little  Aida] 
Do  you  like  me? 

L.  Aida.  Yus-s. 

L.  Anne.  So  do  I.    Come  on ! 

[She  takes  Little  Aida's  hand. 

James.  [Betv)een   the   pillars]  Tommy,    ketch    'em! 
[Thomas  retains  them  by  the  skirts. 

L.  Anne.  [Feigning  indifference]  All  right,  then ! 
[To  Little  Aida]  Have  you  ever  seen  a  bomb  ? 

L.  Aida.  Nao. 


68  THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  m 

L.  Anne.  [Going  to  the  table  and  lifting  a  corner  of 
the  cover]  Look ! 

L.  AiDA.  [Loohing]  What's  it  for? 

L,  Anne.  To  blow  up  this  house. 

L.  AiDA.  I  daon't  fink ! 

L.  Anne.  Why  not? 

L.  AiDA.  It's  a  beautiful  big  'ouse. 

L.  Anne.  That's  why.    Isn't  it,  James? 

L.  AiDA.  You  give  the  fing  to  me;  I'll  blow  up  our 
'ouse — it's  an  ugly  little  'ouse. 

L.  Anne.  [Struck]  Let's  all  blow  up  our  own;  then 
we  can  start  fair.    Daddy  would  like  that. 

L.  AiDA.  Yus.  [Suddenly  brilliant]  I've  'ad  a  ride  in 
a  taxi,  an'  we're  goin'  'ome  in  it  agyne ! 

L.  Anne.  Were  you  sick  ? 

Little  Aida.  [Brilliant]  Nao. 

L.  Anne.  I  was,  when  I  first  went  in  one,  but  I  was 
quite  young  then.  James,  could  you  get  her  a  P6che 
Melba  ?    There  was  one. 

James.  No. 

L.  Anne.  Have  you  seen  the  revolution  ? 

L.  Aida.  Wot's  that? 

L.  Anne.  It's  made  of  people. 

L.  Aida.  I've  seen  the  corfin,  it's  myde  o'  wood. 

L.  Anne.  Do  you  hate  the  rich  ? 

L.  Aida.  [Ineffably]  Nao.    I  hates  the  poor. 

L.  Anne.  Why? 

L.  Aida.  'Cos  they  'yn't  got  nuffin'. 

L.  Anne.  I  love  the  poor.    They're  such  dears. 

L.  Aida.  [Shaking  her  head  with  a  broad  smile]  Nao. 


ACT  III 


THE  FOUNDATIONS 


L.  Anne.  Why  not? 

L.  AiDA.  I'd  tyke  and  lose  the  lot,  I  would. 

L.  Anne.  Where? 

L.  AiDA.  In  the  water. 

L.  Anne.  Like  puppies? 

L.  AiDA.  Yus. 

L.  Anne.  Why? 

L.  AiDA.  Then  I'd  be  shut  of  'em. 

L.  Anne.  [Puzzled]  Oh! 

The  voice  of  The  Press  is  heard  in  the  hall. 
"Where 3  the  little  girl?" 
James.  That's  you.    Come  'ere ! 

He  jniis  a  hand  behind  Little  Aida's  hack 

and  propels  her  towards  the  hall.    The  Press 

enters  with  old  Mrs.  Lemmy. 

Press.  Oh!    Here  she  is,  major  domo.    I'm  going 

to  take  this  old  lady  to  the  meeting;  they  want  her  on 

the  platform.    Look  after  our  friend,  Mr.  Lemmy 

here;  Lord  William  wants  to  see  him  presently. 

L.  Anne.  [In  an  awed  whisper]  James,  it's  the  little 
blighter ! 

She  dives  again  under  the  table.    Lemmy  enters. 
Lemmy.  'Ere !    'Arf  a  mo' !    Yer  said  yer'd  drop 
me  at  my  plyee.    Well,  I  tell  yer  candid — this  'yn't 
my  plyce! 

Press.  That's  all  right,  Mr.  Lemmy.  [He  grins] 
They'll  make  you  wonderfully  comfortable,  won't  you, 
major  domo  ? 

He  passes  on  through  the  room,  to  the  door, 
ushering  old  Mrs.  Lemmy  and  Little  Aida. 


70  THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  m 

PouLDER  blocks  Lemmt's  way,  vntk  Charles 
and  Henry  behind  him. 
PoULDER.  James,  watch  it;  I'll  report. 

He  mmes  away,  following  The  Press  through 
the  door.    James  between  table  and  window. 
Thomas  has  gone  to  the  door.    Henry  and 
Charles  remain  at  the  entrances  to  the  hall. 
Lemmy  looks  dubiously  around,  his  cockney 
assurance  gradually  returns. 
Lemmy.  I  think' I  knows  the  gas  'ere.    This  is  where 
I  came  to-dy,  'yn't  it?    Excuse  my  hesitytion — these 
little  'ouses  is  so  much  the  syme ! 
James.  {Gloomily]  They  are ! 

Lemmy.  {Looking  at  the  four  immofoable  footmen,  till 
he  concentrates  on  James]  Ah !  I  *ad  a  word  wiv  you, 
'adn't  I?  You're  the  four  conscientious  ones  wot's 
wyin'  on  your  gov'nor's  chest.  'Twas  you  I  spoke  to, 
wasn't  it?  {His  eyes  travel  over  them  again]  Ye're  so 
monotonous.  Well,  ye're  busy  now,  I  see.  I  won't 
wyste  yer  time. 

He  turns  towards  the  hall,  but  Charles  and 
Henry  bar  the  way  in  silence. 
[Skidding  a  little,  and  regarding  the  four  immxwables  once 
more]  I  never  see  such  pytient  men?     Compared  wiv 
yer,  mountains  is  restless ! 

He  goes  to  the  table.    James  watches   him. 

Anne  barks  from  underneath. 

[Skidding  again]  Why !    There's  a  dawg  under  there. 

[Noting  the  grin  on  Thomas's  face]  Glad  it  amooses 

yer.    Yer  want  it,  daon't  yer,  wiv  a  fyce  like  that? 


Acrra  THE  FOUNDATIONS  71 

Is  this  a  ply  wivaht  words  ?  'Ave  I  got  into  the  movies 
by  mistyke  ?  Turn  aht,  an'  let's  'ave  six  penn'orth  o' 
darkness. 
L.  Anne.  [From  beneath  the  table]  No,  no !  Not  dark ! 
Lemmy.  [Musingly]  The  dawg  talks  anywy.  Come 
aht,  Fido ! 

Little  Anne  emerges,  and  regards  him  vnth 
burning  curiosity. 
I  sy :  Is  this  the  lytest  fashion  o'  receivin'  guests  ? 

L.  Anne.  Mother  always  wants  people  to  feel  at 
home.    What  shall  we  do?    Would  you  like  to  hear 
the  speeches  ?    Thomas,  open  the  door  a  little,  do ! 
James.  'Umour  'er  a  couple  o'  inches.  Tommy ! 

Thomas  draws  the  door  back  steaUhUy  an  inch 
or  so. 
L.  Anne,  [After  applying  her  eye — in  a  loud  whisper] 
There's  the  old  lady.    Daddy's  looking  at  her  trousers. 
Lbten! 

For  Mrs.  Lemmt's  voice  is  floating  faintly 
through:  "I  putt  in  the  buttonholes,  I  stretches 
the  flies ;  I  'ems  the  bottoms  ;  I  lines  the 
crutch  ;  I  putt  on  this  bindin'  ;  I  sews  on  the 
buttons ;  I  presses  the  seams  —  Tuppence 
three  farthin's  the  pair. 
Lemmy.  [In  a  hoarse  whisper]  That's  it,  old  lydy: 
give  it  'em ! 
L.  Anne.  Listen! 

Voice  of  Lord  W.  We  are  indebted  to  our  friends 
the  Press  for  giving  us  the  pleasure — er — pleasure  of 
hearing  from  her  own  lips^the  pleasure 


72  THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  iii 

L.  Anne.  Oh !  Daddy ! 

[Thomas  abrtiptiy  closes  the  doors. 

Lemmy.  [To  Anne]  Now  yer've  done  it.  See  wot 
comes  o'  bein'  impytient.  We  was  just  gettin'  to  the 
marrer. 

L.  Anne.  What  can  we  do  for  you  now  ? 

Lemmt.  [Pointing  to  Anne,  and  addressing  James] 
Wot  is  this  one,  anywy  ? 

James.  [Sepulchrally]  Daughter  o'  the  house. 

Lemmy.  Is  she  insured  agynst  'er  own  curiosity? 

L.  Anne.  Why? 

Lemmy.  As  I  daon't  believe  in  a  life  beyond  the 
gryve,  I  might  be  tempted  to  send  yer  there. 

L.  Anne.  What  is  the  gryve? 

Lemmy.  Where  little  gells  goes  to. 

L.  Anne.  Oh,  when? 

Lemmy.  [Pretending  to  look  at  a  toatch,  which  is  not 
there]  Well,  I  dunno  if  I've  got  time  to  finish  yer  this 
minute.    Sy  to-morrer  at  'arf  past. 

L.  Anne.  Half  past  what  ? 

Lemmy.  [Despairingly]  'Arf  past  wot ! 

[The  sound  of  applause  is  heard. 

James.  That's  'is  Grace.    'E's  gettin'  wickets,  too. 
[PouLDEB  entering  from  the  door. 

PoULDER.  Lord  William  is  slippin'  in. 

He  makes  a  cabalistic  sign  with  his  head. 
James  crosses  to  the  door.  Lemmy  looks 
dubiously  at  Fouldeb. 


ACT  III  THE  FOUNDATIONS  78 

Lemmy.  [Suddenly — as  to  himaelf]  Wot  oh !  I  am 
the  portly  one ! 

PouLDEK.  [Severely]  Any  such  allusion  aggeravates 
your  offence. 

Lemmy.  Oh,  ah !  Look  *ere,  it  was  a  corked  bottle. 
Now,  tyke  care,  tyke  care,  'aughty !  Daon't  curl  yer 
lip !  I  shall  myke  a  clean  breast  o'  my  betryal  when 
the  time  comes ! 

There  is  a  slight  movement  of  the  door.    Anne 
makes  a  dive  towards  the  table  but  is  arrested 
by  PoULDER  grasping  her  waistband.     Lord 
William  slips  in,  followed  by  The  Press, 
on  whom  James  and  Thomas  close  the  door 
too  soon. 
Half  of  the  Press.  [Indignantly]  Look  out ! 
James.  Do  you  want  him  in  or  out,  me  Lord  ? 
Lemmy.  I  sy,   you've  divided  the  Press;   'e   was 
unanimous. 

[The  Footmen  let  The  Press  through. 
Lord  W.  [To  The  Press]  I'm  so  sorry. 
Lemmy.  Would  yer  like  me  to  see  to  'is  gas? 
Lord  W.  So  you're  my  friend  of  the  cellars  ? 
Lemmy.  [Uneasy]  I  daon't  deny  it. 

[PouLDER  begins  removing  Little  Annb. 
L.  Anne.  Let  me  stay.  Daddy;  I  haven't  seen  any- 
thing yet!    If  I  go,  I  shall  only  have  to  come  down 
again  when  they  loot  the  house.    Listen! 

The  hoarse  strains  of  the  Marseillaise  are  again 
heard  from  the  distance. 
Lord  W.  [Blandly]  Take  her  up,  Foulder ! 


74  THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  hi 

L.  Anne,  Well,  I'm  coming  down  again — and  next 
time  I  shan't  have  any  clothes  on,  you  know. 

They  vanish  between  the  'pillars.  Lord  Wil- 
liam makes  a  sign  of  dismissal.  The  Foot- 
men file  out. 

Lemmt.  [Admiringly]  Luv'ly  pyces ! 

Lord  W.  [Pleasantly]  Now  then;  let's  have  our  talk, 
Mr. 

Lemmy.  Lemmy. 

Press.  [Who  has  slipped  his  note-book  out]  "Bombed 
and  Bomber  face  to  face " 

Lemmt.  [Uneasy]  I  didn't  come  'ere  agyne  on  me 
own,  yer  know.    The  Press  betryed  me. 

Lord  W.  Is  that  old  lady  your  mother  ? 

Lemmt.  The  syme.  I  tell  yer  stryte,  it  was  for  'er 
I  took  that  old  bottle  o'  port.    It  was  orful  old. 

Lord  W.  Ah!  Port?  Probably  the  '63.  Hope 
you  both  enjoyed  it. 

Lemmt.  So  far — ^yus.  Muwer'U  suffer  a  bit  to- 
morrer,  I  expect. 

Lord  W.  I  should  like  to  do  something  for  your 
mother,  if  you'll  allow  me. 

Lemmt.  Oh!  I'll  allow  yer.  But  I  dunno  wot 
she'll  sy. 

Lord  W.  I  can  see  she's  a  fine  independent  old 
lady!  But  suppose  you  were  to  pay  her  ten  bob  a 
week,  and  keep  my  name  out  of  it? 

Lemmt.  Well,  that's  one  wy  o'  you  doin'  somefink, 
'yn't  it? 

Lobd  W.  I  giving  you  the  money>  of  course. 


ACT  HI  THE  FOUNDATIONS  75 

Press.  [Writing]  "Lord  William,  with  kingly  gen- 
erosity  " 

Lemmy.  [Dravring  attention  to  The  Press  toitk  his 
thuTnb]  I  sy — I  daon't  mind,  meself — if  you  daon't 

Lord  W.  He  won't  write  anything  to  annoy  me. 

Press.  This  is  the  big  thing,  Lord  William;  it'll  get 
the  public  bang  in  the  throat. 

Lemmy.  [Confidentially]  Bit  dyngerous,  'yn't  it? — 
trustin'  the  Press.''  Their  right  'ands  never  knows 
wot  their  left  'ands  is  writin'.  [To  The  Press]  'Yn't 
that  true,  speakin'  as  a  man  .'* 

Press.  Mr.  Lemmy,  even  the  Press  is  capable  of 
gratitude. 

Lemmy.  Is  it?  I  should  ha'  thought  it  was  too  im- 
portant for  a  little  thing  like  that.  [To  Lord  William] 
But  ye're  quite  right;  we  couldn't  do  wivaht  the  Press 
— there  wouldn't  be  no  distress,  no  corfin,  no  revolu- 
tion— 'cos  nobody'd  know  nuffin'  abaht  it.  Why ! 
There  wouldn't  be  no  life  at  all  on  Earf  in  these  dyes, 
wivaht  the  Press !  It's  them  wot  says:  "Let  there  be 
Light — an'  there  is  Light." 

Lord  W.  Umm!  That's  rather  a  new  thought  to 
me.  [Writes  on  his  cuff.] 

Lemmy.  But  abaht  Muvver,  I'll  tell  yer  'ow  we  can 
arrynge.  You  send  'er  the  ten  bob  a  week  wivaht 
syin'  anyfink,  an'  she'll  fink  it  comes  from  Gawd  or  the 
Gover'ment — ^yer  cawn't  tell  one  from  t'other  in  Befnal 
Green. 

Lord  W.  All  right;  we'll  do  that. 


76  THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  hi 

Lemmy.  Will  yer  reely  ?  I'd  like  to  shyke  yer  'and. 
Lord  William  puis  out  his  hand,  which 
Lemmy  grasps. 

Press.  [Writing]  "The  heart-beat  of  humanity  was 
in  that  grasp  between  the  son  of  toil  and  the  son  of 
leisure." 

Lemmy.  [Already  ashamed  of  his  emotion]  'Ere,  'arf 
a  mo' !  Which  is  which  .'*  Daon't  forget  I'm  aht  o' 
work;  Lord  William,  if  that's  'is  nyme,  is  workin'  'ard 
at  'is  Anti-Sweats !  Wish  I  could  get  a  job  like  vat — 
jist  suit  me ! 

Lord  W.  That  hits  hard,  Mr.  Lemmy ! 

Lemmy.  Daon't  worry !  Yer  cawn't  'elp  bein'  born 
in  the  purple! 

Lord  W.  Ah !  Tell  me,  what  would  you  do  in  my 
place? 

Lemmy.  Why — ^as  the  nobleman  said  in  'is  well- 
known  wy:  "Sit  in  me  Club  winder  an'  watch  it  ryne 
on  the  dam  people !"  That's  if  I  was  a  average  noble- 
man !  If  I  was  a  bit  more  noble,  I  might  be  tempted 
to  come  the  kind-'earted  on  twenty  thou'  a  year. 
Some  prefers  yachts,  or  ryce  'orses.  But  philanthropy 
on  the  'ole  is  syfer,  in  these  dyes. 

Lord  W.  So  you  think  one  takes  to  it  as  a  sort  of 
insurance,  Mr.  Lemmy?     Is  that  quite  fair? 

Lemmy.  Well,  we've  all  got  a  weakness  towards 
bein'  kind,  somewhere  abaht  us.  But  the  moment 
wealf  comes  in,  we  'yn't  wot  I  call  single-'earted.  If 
yer  went  into  the  foundytions  of  your  wealf — would 
yer  feel  like  'avin'  any?  It  all  comes  from  uvver 
people's   'ard,   unpleasant   lybour — it's   all   built   on 


ACT  III  THE  FOUNDATIONS  77 

Muvver  as  yer  might  sy.    An'  if  yer  daon't  get  rid  o' 
some  of  it  in  bein'  kind — yer  daon't  feel  syfe  nor  comfy. 

Lord  W.  [Tvmting  his  moustache]  Your  philosophy 
is  very  pessimistic. 

Lemmt.  Well,  /  calls  meself  an  optimist;  I  sees  the 
worst  of  everyfink.  Never  disappynted,  can  afford  to 
*ave  me  smile  under  the  blackest  sky.  When  deaf  is 
squeezin'  of  me  windpipe,  I  shall  'ave  a  laugh  in  it! 
Fact  is,  if  yer've  'ad  to  do  wiv  gas  an'  water  pipes,  yer 
can  fyce  anyfing.  [The  distant  Marseillaise  blares  up] 
'Ark  at  the  revolution ! 

Lord  W.  [Rather  desperately]  I  know — hunger  and 
all  the  rest  of  it!  And  here  am  I,  a  rich  man,  and 
don't  know  what  the  deuce  to  do. 

LiaiMT.  Well,  I'll  tell  yer.  Throw  yer  cellars  open, 
an*  while  the  populyce  is  gettin'  drunk,  sell  all  yer  'ave 
an'  go  an*  live  in  Ireland;  they*ve  got  the  millennium 
chronic  over  there. 

Lord  William  niters  a  short,  vexed  laugh,  and 
begins  to  walk  aboui. 
That's  si>eakin'  as  a  practical  man.  Speakin*  as  a 
synt — "Bruvvers,  all  I  'ave  is  yours.  To-morrer  I'm 
goin'  dahn  to  the  Lybour  Exchynge  to  git  put  on  the 
wytin'  list,  syme  as  you !" 

Lord  W.  But,  d it,  man,  there  we  should  be, 

all  together!    Would  that  help? 

Lemmy.  Nao;  but  it'd  syve  a  lot  o*  blood. 

Lord  William  stops  abruptly,  and  looks  first 
at  Lemmy,  then  at  the  cooler,  still  covered 
with  the  Chinese  mat. 
Yer  thought  the  Englishman  could  be  taught  to  shed 


78  THE  FOUNDATIONS         act  hi 

blood  wiv  syfety.  Not  'im!  Once  yer  git  'im  into 
an  'abit,  yer  cawn't  git  'im  out  of  it  agyne.  'E'll  go 
on  sheddin'  blood  mechanical — Conservative  by  nyture. 
An'  'e  won't  myke  nuffin'  o'  yours.  Not  even  the 
Press  wiv  'is  'oneyed  words'll  sty  'is  'and. 

Lord  W.  And  what  do  you  suggest  we  could  have 
done,  to  avoid  trouble? 

Lemmy.  [Warming  to  his  theme]  I'll  tell  yer.  If  all 
you  wealfy  nobs  wiv  kepitel  'ad  come  it  kind  from  the 
start  after  the  war  yer'd  never  'a  been  'earin'  the 
Marseillaisy  naow.  Lord!  'Ow  you  did  talk  abaht 
Unity  and  a  noo  spirit  in  the  Country.  Noo  spirit! 
Why,  soon  as  ever  there  was  no  dynger  from  outside, 
yer  stawted  to  myke  it  inside,  wiv  an  iron  'and.  Naow, 
you've  been  in  the  war  an'  it's  given  yer  a  feelin'  'eart; 
but  most  of  the  nobs  wiv  kepitel  was  too  old  or  too 
important  to  fight.  They  weren't  bom  agyne.  So 
naow  that  bad  times  is  come,  we're  'owlin'  for  their 
blood. 

Lord  W.  I  quite  agree;  I  quite  agree.  I've  often 
said  much  the  same  thing. 

Lemmy.  Voice  cryin*  in  the  wilderness — ^I  daon't  sy 
we  was  yngels — there  was  faults  on  bofe  sides.  [He 
looks  at  The  Press]  The  Press  could  ha'  helped  yer  a 
lot.  Shall  I  tell  yer  wot  the  Press  did?  "It's  vital," 
said  the  Press,  "that  the  country  should  be  united, 
or  it  will  never  recover."  Nao  strikes,  nao  'uman 
nature,  nao  nuflSnk.  Kepitel  an*  Lybour  like  the 
Siamese  twins.  And,  fust  dispute  that  come  along, 
the  Press  orfs  wiv  its  coat  an'  goes  at  it  bald-'eaded. 


ACT  III  THE  FOUNDATIONS  79 

An'  wot  abaht  since?  Sich  a  riot  o'  nymes  called,  in 
Press  and  Pawlyement — Unpatriotic  an'  outrygeous 
demands  o'  lybour.  Blood-suckin'  tyranny  o'  Kepitel; 
thieves  an'  dawgs  an*  'owlin  Jackybines — gents  throwin' 
books  at  each  other;  all  the  resources  of  edjucytion  ex- 
hausted !  If  I'd  been  Prime  Minister  I'd  'ave  'ad  the 
Press's  gas  cut  'orf  at  the  meter.  Puffect  liberty,  of 
coin^e,  nao  Censorship;  just  sy  wot  yer  like — an'  never 
be  'eard  of  no  more. 

Turning  suddenly  to  The  Press,  who  has  been 
scribbling  in  pace  vnth  this  harangue,  and 
now  has  developed  a  touch  of  writer's  cramp. 
Why !    'Is  'and's  out  o'  breath !    Fink  o'  vet ! 

LoBD  W.  Great   tribute   to   your   eloquence,    Mr. 
I^emmy ! 

A  sudden  stir  of  applause  and  scraping  of 
chairs   is   heard ;  the   meeting   is   evidently 
breaking   up.    Lady    William    comes    in, 
foUowed  by  Mrs.  Lemmy  toith  her  troupers, 
and  Little  Aida.    Lemmy  stares  fixedly  at 
this  sudden  radiant  apparition.    His  gaze 
becomes  as  that  of  a  rabbit  regarding  a  snake. 
And  suddenly  he  puts  up  his  hand  and  wipes 
his  brow. 
Lady  William,  going  to  the  table,  lifts  one  end 
of  the  Chinese  mat,  and  looks  at  Lemmy. 
Then  she  turns  to  Lord  William. 
Lady  W.  BiU ! 

Lemmy.  [To  his  mother — in  a  hoarse  whisper]  She 
calls 'im  BUI.    'Ow!    'Yn't  she  IT? 


80  THE  FOUNDATIONS         act  hi 

Lady  W.  [Apart]  Have  you  spoken  to  him? 

[Lord  William  shakes  his  head. 
Not?    What  have  you  been  saying,  then? 
Lord  W.  Nothing,  he's  talked  all  the  time. 
Lady  W.  [Very  low]  What  a  little  caution ! 
Lord  W.  Steady,  old  girl!    He's  got  his  eye  on 
you! 

Lady  William  looks  at  Lemmy,  whose  eyes 
are  still  fixed  on  her. 

Lady  W.  [With  resolviion]  Well,  I'm  going  to  tackle 
him. 

She  moves  towards  Lemmy,  who  again  wipes 
his  brow,  and  wrings  out  his  hand. 

Mrs.  Lemmy.  Don't  'ee  du  that.  Bob.  Yu  must 
forgive  'im.  Ma'am;  it's  'is  admiration.  'E  was  always 
one  for  the  ladies,  and  he'm  not  used  to  seein'  so  much 
of  'em. 

Lady  W.  Don't  you  think  you  owe  us  an  explana- 
tion? 

Mrs.  L.  Speak  up.  Bob. 

[Bid  Lemmy  only  shifts  his  feet. 
My  gudeness!  'E've  a-lost  'is  tongue.  I  never  knu 
that  'appen  to  'e  before. 

Lord  W.  [Trying  to  break  the  embarrassment]  No  ill- 
feeling,  you  know,  Lemmy. 

[Bid  Lemmy  still  only  rolls  his  eyes. 

Lady  W.  Don't  you  think  it  was  rather — incon- 
siderate of  you? 


ACT  III  THE  FOUNDATIONS  81 

Lemmt.  Muvver,  tyke  me  aht,  I'm  feelin'  fynte ! 

Spurts  of  the  Marseillaise  and  the  mutter  of 
the  crowd  have   been   coining   nearer ;   and 
suddenly   a   knocking   is  heard.     Poulder 
and  James  appear  between  the  pillars. 
PouLDEB.  The  populace,  me  Lord ! 
Lady  W.  What! 

Lord  W.  Where' ve  you  put  'em,  Poulder? 
PouLDEH.  They've  put  theirselves  in  the  portico, 
me  Lord. 

Lord  W.  [Suddenly  wiping  his  brow]  Phew !  I  say, 
this  is  awful,  Nell!  Two  speeches  in  one  evening. 
Nothing  else  for  it,  I  supp>ose.  Open  the  window, 
Poulder ! 

Poulder.  [Crossing  to  the  urindow]  We  are  prepared 
for  any  sacrifice,  me  Lord.  [He  opens  the  vrindow. 

Press.  [Writing furiously]  "Lady  William  stood  like 
a  statue  at  bay." 
Lord  W.  Got  one  of  those  lozenges  on  you,  Nell  ? 

Bui  Lady  William  has  almost  nothing  on  her. 
Lebimy.  [Producing  a  paper  from  his  pocket]  'Ave 
one  o'  my  gum  drops  ? 

[He  passes  it  to  Lord  William. 
Lord  W.  [Unable  to  refuse,  takes  a  large  flat  gum 
drop  from  the  paper,  and  looks  at  it  in  embarrassment.] 
Ah !  thanks !    Thanks  awfully ! 

Lemmy  turns  to  Little  Aida,  and  puts  a  gum 
drop  in  her  mouth.  A  burst  of  murmurs 
from  the  crmvd. 


82  THE  FOUNDATIONS         act  hi 

James.  [Towering  above  the  wine  cooler]  If  they  get 
saucy,  me  Lord,  I  can  always  give  'em  their  own  back. 
Lord  W.  Steady,  James;  steady! 

He  puts  the  gum  drop  absently  in  his  mouth, 
and  turns  up  to  the  open  vnndow. 

Voice.  [Outside]  'Ere  they  are — the  bally  pluto- 
crats. [Voices  in  chorus  :  "Bread  I    Bread  /" 

Lord  W.  Poulder,  go  and  tell  the  chef  to  send  out 
anything  there  is  in  the  house — nicely,  as  if  it  came 
from  nowhere  in  particular. 

Poulder.  Very  good,  me  Lord.  [Sotto  voce]  Any 
wine?    If  I  might  suggest — German — 'ock? 

Lord  W.  What  you  like. 

Poulder   Very  good,  me  Lord.  [He  goes. 

Lord  W.  I  say,  dash  it,  Nell,  my  teeth  are  stuck! 
[He  works  his  finger  in  his  mouth. 

Lady  W.  Take  it  out,  darling. 

Lord  W.  [Taking  out  the  gum  drop  and  looking  at 
it]  What  the  deuce  did  I  put  it  in  for? 

Press.  [Writing]  "With  inimitable  coolness  Lord 
William  prepared  to  address  the  crowd." 

[Voices  in  chorus  :  "Bread  I  Bread  !" 

Lord  W.  Stand  by  to  prompt,  old  girl.  Now  for  it. 
This  ghastly  gum  drop ! 

Lady  William  takes  it  from  his  agitated  hand, 
and  flips  it  through  the  toindow. 

Voice.  Dahn  with  the  aristo [Chokes. 

Lady  W.  Oh !  Bill — oh  /    It's  gone  into  a  mouth ! 


ACT  III  THE  FOUNDATIONS  83 

Lord  W.  Good  God! 

Voice.  Wot's  this?  Throwin*  things?  Mind  aht, 
or  we'll  smash  yer  winders ! 

Aa  the  voices  in  chorus  chard:  "Bread  I 
Bread  1 ' '  Little  Anne,  night-gowned,  darts 
in  from  the  hall.  She  is  followed  by  Miss 
Stokes.    They  stand  listening. 

Lord  W.  [To  the  Crowd]  My  friends,  you've  come 
to  the  wrong  shop.  There's  nobody  in  London  more 
sympathetic  with  you.  [The  crowd  laughs  hoarsely. 
[JfVhispering]  Look  out,  old  girl;  they  can  see  your 
shoulders.  [Lady  William  moves  back  a  step. 
If  I  were  a  speaker,  I  could  make  you  feel 

Voice.  Look  at  his  white  weskit !  Blood-suckers — 
fattened  on  the  people ! 

[James  dives  his  hand  at  the  xoine  cooler. 

Lord  W.  I've  always  said  the  Government  ought 

to  take  immediate  steps 

Voice.  To  shoot  us  dahn. 

Lord  W.  Not  a  bit.    To  relieve  the — er 

Lady  W.  [Prompting]  Distress. 

Lord  W.  Distress,  and  ensure — er — ensure 

Lady  W.  [Prompting]  Quiet. 

Lord  W.  [To  her]  No,  no.    To  ensure — ensure 

L.  Anne.  [Agonized]  Oh,  Daddy! 

Voice.  'E  wants  to  syve  'is  dirty  great  *ouse. 

Lord  W.  [Roused]  D if  I  do ! 

[Rude  and  hoarse  laughter  from  the  crowd. 


84  THE  FOUNDATIONS  act  hi 

James.  [With  fury]  Me  Lord,  let  me  blow  'em  to 
glory! 

He  raises  the  cooler  and  advances  towards  the 
window. 

Lord  W.  [Turning  sharply  on  him]  Drop  it,  James; 
drop  it ! 
Press.  [Jumping]  No,  no;  don't  drop  it ! 

James  retires  crestfallen  to  the  table,  where  he 
replaces  the  cooler. 

Lord  W.  [Catching  hold  of  his  bit]  Look  here,  I 
must  have  fought  alongside  some  of  you  fellows  in  the 
war.     Weren't  we  jolly  well  like  brothers.'' 

A  Voice.  Not  so  much  bloomin'  "Kamerad";  hand 
over  yer  'ouse. 

Lord  W.  I  was  bom  with  this  beastly  great  house, 
and  money,  and  goodness  knows  what  other  entangle- 
ments— a  wife  and  family 

Voice.  Born  with  a  wife  and  family ! 

[Jeers  and  laughter. 

Lord  W.  I  feel  we're  all  in  the  same  boat,  and  I 
want  to  pull  my  weight.  If  you  can  show  me  the  way, 
I'll  take  it  fast  enough. 

A  Deep  Voice.  Step  dahn  then,  an'  we'll  step  up. 

Another  Voice.  'Ear,  'Ear! 

[A  fierce  little  cheer. 

Lord  W.  [To  Lady  William — in  despair]  By  George ! 
I  can't  get  in  anywhere ! 
Lady  W.  [Calmly]  Then  shut  the  window.  Bill. 


ACT  III         THE  FOUNDATIONS  85 

Lemmy.  [Who  has  been  moving  towards  them  slowly] 
Lenune  sy  a  word  to  'em. 

All  stare  at  him.    Lemmy  approaches  the  vnn- 
dow,  followed  by  Little  Aida.    Pouldeb 
re-enters  with  the  three  other  footman. 
{At  the  window]  Cheerio !    Cockies ! 

[The  silence  of  surprise  falls  on  the  crowd. 
I'm  one  of  yer.  Gas  an'  water  I  am.  Got  more 
grievances  an'  out  of  employment  than  any  of  yer.  I 
want  to  see  their  blood  flow,  syme  as  you. 

Press.  [Writing]  "Born  orator — ready  cockney  wit 
— saves  situation." 

Lemmy.  Wot  I  sy  is:  Dahn  wiv  the  coimtry,  dahn 
wiv  everyfing.  Begin  agyne  from  the  foundytions. 
[Nodding  his  head  back  at  the  room]  But  we've  got  to 
keep  one  or  two  o'  these  'ere  imder  glawss,  to  show 
our  future  generytions.  An'  this  one  is  'armless.  His 
pipes  is  sahnd,  'is  'eart  is  good;  'is  'ead  is  not  strong. 
'Is  'ouse  will  myke  a  charmin'  palace  o'  varieties  where 
our  children  can  come  an*  see  'ow  they  did  it  in  the 
good  old  dyes.  Yer  never  see  sich  waxworks  as  'is 
butler  and  'is  four  conscientious  khaki  footmen.  Why 
— wot  d'yer  think  'e  *as  'em  for — fear  they  might  be 
out-o' -works  like  you  an'  me.  Nao !  Keep  this  one; 
'e's  a  Flower.  'Arf  a  mo' !  I'll  show  yer  my  Muwer. 
Come  'ere,  old  lydy;  and  bring  yer  trahsers.  [Mrs. 
Lemmy  comes  forward  to  the  vxindow]  Tell  abaht  yer 
sf>eech  to  the  meetin'. 

Mrs.  Lemmy.  [Bridling]  Oh  dear !  Well,  I  cam'  in 
with  me  trousers,  an'  they  putt  me  up  on  the  pedestory 


86  THE  FOUNDATIONS         act  m 

at  once,  so  I  tole  'em.  [Holding  up  the  trousers]  "I  putt 
in  the  button'oles,  I  stretches  the  flies;  I  lines  the 
crutch;  I  putt  on  this  bindin',  I  presses  the  seams — 
Tuppence  three  farthin's  a  pair." 

[A  groan  from  the  crowd. 

Lemmy.  [Shomng  her  off]  Seventy-seven!  Wot's 
*er  income?  Twelve  bob  a  week;  seven  from  the  Gov- 
er'ment,  an'  five  from  the  sweat  of  'er  brow.  Look  at 
*er !  'Yn't  she  a  tight  old  dear  to  keep  it  goin' !  No 
workus  for  'er,  nao  fear !    The  gry  ve  rather ! 

Murmurs  from  tlie  crowd,  at  whom  Mrs.  Lemmy 
is  blandly  smiling. 
You  cawn't  git  below  'er — impossible!  She's  the 
foundytions  of  the  country — an'  rocky  *yn't  the  word 
for  'em.  Worked  'ard  all  'er  life,  brought  up  a  family 
and  buried  'em  on  it.  Twelve  bob  a  week,  an'  seven 
when  'er  fingers  goes,  which  is  very  near.  Well,  naow, 
this  torf  'ere  comes  to  me  an'  says:  "I'd  like  to  do 
somefin'  for  yer  muwer.  'Ow's  ten  bob  a  week.?"  'e 
says.  Naobody  arst  'im — quite  on  'is  own.  That's 
the  sort  'e  is.  [Sinking  his  voice  confidentiaUy]  Sorft. 
You  bring  yer  muwers  'ere,  'e'll  do  the  syme  for  them. 
I  giv  yer  the  'int. 

Voice.  [From  the  crov)d]  What's  'is  nyme  ? 

Lemmt.  They  calls  'im  Bill. 

Voice.  Bill  what  ? 

L.  Anne.  Dromondy. 

Ladt  W.  Anne! 

Lemmy.  Dromedary  'is  nyme  is. 


ACT  III  THE  FOUNDATIONS  87 

Voice.  [From  the  crowd]  Three  cheers  for  Bill  Drom- 
edary. 

Lemmt.  I  sy,  there's  veal  an'  'am,  an'  pork  wine  at 
the  back  for  them  as  wants  it;  I  'card  the  word  passed. 
An'  look  'ere,  if  yer  want  a  flag  for  the  revolution,  tyke 
muvver's  trahsers  an'  tie  'em  to  the  corfin.  Yer 
cawn't  'ave  no  more  uispirin'  banner.  Ketch!  [He 
throws  the  trousers  out]  Give  Bill  a  double-barrel  fust, 
to  show  there's  no  ill-feelin'.    'Ip,  'ip ! 

The  crowd  cheers,  then  slowly  passes  away, 
singing  its  hoarse  version  of  the  Marseillaise, 
tiU  all  thai  is  heard  is  a  faint  murmuring 
and  a  distant  barrel-organ  playing  the  same 
tune. 

Press.  [Writing]  "And  far  up  in  the  clear  summer 
air  the  larks  were  singing." 

Lord  W.  [Passing  his  hand  over  his  hair,  and  blink- 
ing his  eyes]  James!    Ready? 

James.  Me  Lord ! 

L.  Anne.  Daddy! 

Lady  W.  [Taking  his  arm]  Bill!  It's  all  right,  old 
man — all  right ! 

Lord  W.  [Blinking]  Those  infernal  larks !  Thought 
we  were  on  the  Somme  again!  Ah!  Mr.  Lemmy, 
[StiU  rather  dreamy]  no  end  obliged  to  you;  you're  so 
decent.  Now,  why  did  you  want  to  blow  us  up  before 
dinner? 

Lemmt.  Blow  yer  up?  [Passing  his  hand  over  his 
hair  in  travesty]  "Is  it  a  dream?  Then  wykin'  would 
be  pyne." 


88  THE  FOUNDATIONS         act  hi 

Mrs.  Lemmy.  Bo-ob !    Not  so  saucy,  my  boy ! 

Lemmy.  Blow  yer  up  ?    Wot  abaht  it  ? 

Lady  W.  [Indicating  the  bomb]  This,  Mr.  Lemmy! 
Lemmy  looks  at  it,  and  his  eyes  roll  and  goggle. 

Lord  W.  Come,  all's  forgiven !    But  why  did  you  ? 

Lemmy.  Orl  right!  I'm  goin'  to  tyke  it  awy;  it'd 
a-been  a  bit  ork'ard  for  me.    I'll  want  it  to-morrer. 

Lord  W.  What!    To  leave  somewhere  else.'' 

Lemmy.  Yus,  of  course ! 

Lord  W.  No,  no;  dash  it !  Tell  us — what's  it  filled 
with? 

Lemmy.  Filled  wiv  ?  Nuffin'.  Wot  did  yer  expect  ? 
Toof-pahder  ?  It's  got  a  bit  o'  my  lead  soldered  on  to 
it.    That's  why  it's  'eavy ! 

Lord  W.  But  what  w  it? 

Lemmy.  Wot  is  it  ?  [His  eyes  are  fearfvUy  fixed  on 
Lady  William]  I  fought  everybody  knew  'em. 

Lady  W.  Mr.  Lemmy,  you  must  clear  this  up, 
please. 

Lemmy.  [To  Lord  William,  with  his  eyes  still  fixed  on 
Lady  William — mystenotisly]  Wiv  lydies  present.-* 
•Adn't  I  better  tell  the  Press  ? 

Lord  W.  All  right;  tell  someone — anyone ! 

Lemmy  goes  down  to  The  Press,  who  is  read- 
ing over  his  last  note.  Everyone  watches  and 
listens  vnth  the  utmost  discretion,  while  he 
whispers  into  the  ear  of  The  Press,  who 
shakes  his  head  violently. 

Press.  No,  no;  it's  too  horrible.  It  destroys  my 
whole 


ACT  in         THE  FOUNDATIONS  89 

Lemmy.  Well,  I  tell  yer  it  is. 

[Whispers  again  violently. 
Press.  No,  no;  I  can't  have  it.    All  my  article !    All 
my  article !    It  can't  be — no ! 

Lemmy.  I  never  see  sich  an  obstinate  thick-head! 
Yer  *yn't  worvy  of  yer  tryde. 

He  whispers  stiU  more  violently  and  makes 

cabalistic  signs. 
Lady  Wilxiam  lifts  the  bomb  from  the  cooler 
into  the  sight  of  all.  Lord  William,  seeing  it 
for  the  first  time  in  full  light,  bends  double  in 
silent  laughter,   and  whispers   to   his  ivife. 
Lady  William  drops  the  bomb  and  gives  way 
too.    Hearing  the  sound,  Lemmy  turns,  and 
his  goggling  eyes  pass  them  all  in  review. 
Lord  and  Lady  William  in  fits  of  laughter. 
Little  Anne  stamping  her  feet,  for  Miss 
Stokes,  red,  but  composed,  has  her  hands 
placed  firmly  over  her  pupil's  eyes  and  ears  ; 
Little    Aida    smiling    brilliantly,    Mrs. 
Lemmy  blandly  in  sympathy,  neither  know- 
ing why ;  the  Four  Footmen  in  a  row, 
smothering  little  explosions.    Poulder,  ex- 
tremely grave  and  red,  The  Press  perfectly 
haggard,  gnawing  at  his  nails. 
Lemmy.  [Turning  to  The  Press]  Blimy !  It  amooses 
*em,  all  but  the  genteel  ones.     Cheer  oh !    Press !    Yer 
can  always  myke  somefin*  out  o'  nuffin'  ?    It's  not  the 
fust  thing  as  'as  existed  in  yer  imaginytion  only. 
Press.  No,  d it;  I'll  keep  it  a  bomb! 


90  THE  FOUNDATIONS         act  hi 

Lemmy.  [Soothingly]  Ah !  Keep  the  sensytion.  Wot's 
the  troof  compared  wiv  that?  Come  on,  Muvver! 
Come  on.  Little  Aida!  Time  we  was  goin'  dahn  to 
'Earf! 

He  goes  up  to  the  table,  and  still  skidding  a  little 
at  Lady  William,  takes  the  late  bomb  from 
the  cooler,  placing  it  under  his  arm. 
Mrs.  Lemmy.  Gude  naight,  sir;  gude  naight,  ma'am; 
thank  yu  for  my  cup  o'  tea,  an'  all  ym-e  kindness. 

She  shakes  hands  with  Lord  and  Lady  Wil- 
liam, drops  the  curtsey  of  her  youth  before 
Mr.   Poulder,  and  goes  out  followed  by 
Little  Aida,  who  is  looking  back  at  Little 
Anne. 
Lebimt.  [Turning  suddenly]  Aoh !    An'  jist  one  fing ! 
Next  time  yer  build  an  'ouse,  daon't  forget — it's  the 
foundytions  as  bears  the  wyte. 

With  a  wink  that  gives  way  to  a  last  fascinated 

look  at  Lady  William,  he  passes  out.    All 

gaze  after  them,  except  The  Press,  who  is 

tragically  consulting  his  spiflicated  notes. 

L.  Anne.  [Breaking  away  from  Miss  Stokes  and 

rushing  forward]  Oh !  Mum !  what  was  it? 

cvbtain 


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